


Against the Light

by tfw_cas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, American Sign Language, Amnesia, Angst, Bottom Dean Winchester, Castiel and Jimmy Novak are Twins (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time Having Sex, Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Dean Shows Love And Caring With Food And Caretaking, Domestic destiel, Enochian (Supernatural), Explicit Consent, Fluff, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Torture/Experiments, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Selectively Mute Castiel (Supernatural), Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Trauma, Wing Kink, Wingfic, futuristic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:02:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23881999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfw_cas/pseuds/tfw_cas
Summary: When Dean finds a wounded man with highly illegal synthetic wings and no memories except for trauma, he is determined to help him. As trust grows between them, though, Dean unravels some dark secrets of his angel's past that threaten their future together.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 73
Kudos: 215
Collections: Perfect Pair Bang 2020 (Official), The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Right from the start, the Perfect Pair Bang has been an absolute delight to be a part of. The matchmaking process was so much fun, chatting with multiple mystery people and trying to work out who they were. I enjoyed it immensely, and from what I can tell, that was pretty much how everyone felt. So, a huge thank you to the mods, for running this bang so well, and making it such a lot of fun.
> 
> It has to be said that one of the main reasons for me loving this bang so much is because of the way [Threshasketch](https://threshasketch.tumblr.com/) and I gelled so well the moment we began chatting. The plot of this fic was truly a collaboration, discussed and developed between the two of us. It has been a wonderful experience both getting to know you and working with you, and the art is simply stunning. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for always being so positive and helpful, and for making this whole experience even better than I anticipated. The link to the art masterpost is [here](https://threshasketch.tumblr.com/post/617791930906066944); please go and give her all the love. 💚
> 
> Huge T-Rex sized love and thanks go to the awesome [Eyes_of_a_Tragedy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyes_of_a_Tragedy). Not just a beta, but a cheerleader, supporter, and at times, a co-writer on some of the trickier scenes. Words cannot express my gratitude, which I know probably isn’t the best thing for a writer to say, but I don’t want to gush too much. 💖
> 
> I also want to thank the lovely [mugglerock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugglerock), who helped me with a number of points in this story. You always have such wonderful ideas, and thank you so much for sharing them with me. 💙
> 
> Also, the equally lovely and always helpful [Emblue_Sparks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emblue_Sparks). Thank you for always being so supportive, and for always being there for me. 💜
> 
> So then, here it is… bang number two of May 2020. This fic is quite different from the type of story I usually write - there is fluff, of course - but it’s been a great opportunity to explore other themes too. I hope you all enjoy.

_Who am I?_

_Where am I?_

_My name is… what is my name? Is it Emmanuel?_

_He left the door open… He never does that. I might be able to get out._

Making a move for the door was exhausting, but he made it. Standing outside in the rain, he knew he had to get further away, but how? _Wings…_ maybe he could use the wings to fly far away from here. 

_Up… need to climb up_.

All he had to do was spread his wings, and he could soar into the distance. _To freedom._

There was a crash, and someone was hurt. 

_Who’s hurt? Is it me?_

Lying on the ground and blinking up into the rainy night sky, he could see a shadowy figure. The dark made it difficult to see his face.

It isn’t Him, is it?

_Please don’t let it be Him._

__

There was something about walking in the rain after dark that Dean Winchester loved. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it; maybe it was the sound the rain made, or the way the raindrops looked in the light. There was something beautifully poetic about being down here, walking amongst the old and dilapidated buildings and alleyways, away from the bright, cosy surroundings of his apartment, and all the others just like it. Pulling his coat tightly around him to protect himself from the elements, he was startled by a crash coming from the nearest alleyway, and as he turned toward the sound there was a flash of movement. 

It might have been his brother Sam who was the detective, but Dean never had been able to resist a mystery. The alleyway was dimly lit, but there was enough light to be able to make out a figure lying on the ground, barely moving. Drawing closer, he could see it was a man, and he looked very confused… and scared. He was also practically naked; wearing nothing but a pair of ripped pants.

The only way he could have crashed here was if he had fallen from one of the buildings that surrounded the alleyway. But why, and how? Surely a fall from that height would have killed him, or caused serious injury at the very least. 

"Hey, buddy. You need a hand?" Dean asked, offering his hand. 

The guy didn't answer, he just stared up at Dean, blinking the rain out of his eyes.

Dean couldn't just leave him here, not knowing if he was hurt, so he crouched down and spoke softly. "Mind if I take a look at you? Make sure you're not injured?"

Mystery Man shook his head and shifted on the ground. The movement caused him to gasp in pain. 

Now that Dean's eyes had adjusted to the light, he could see a cut on the man's leg and a graze on his face. "Oh man, I need to get you to the hospital. C'mon, can you walk?"

Mystery Man tried shrinking away from him, but judging from the way he winced with even the slightest movement, his injuries were obviously pretty bad.

"I can't just leave you here; you need medical attention." Dean looked around to see if there was anyone nearby who might be able to help. Most people didn’t enjoy the rain as much as he did, however, and there didn’t appear to be another soul in the vicinity. “I'm gonna go get my car, okay? Stay here."

Luckily he wasn't far from his apartment, so it would only take him ten minutes to get there and back. 

As Dean moved to stand, however, something underneath the guy’s prone form caught his eye. It looked like… no, it couldn't be, could it? He crouched back down and reached his hand out to feel it. 

_Feathers._ The guy had wings? Was… was he an angel? _Holy crap._

Dean suddenly noticed the look of terror on Mystery Man's face, as he extended his wings, seemingly unintentionally.

He could see the wings more clearly now; they were a shimmery white and looked synthetic, but were very beautiful nonetheless. This changed everything, though. Dean knew of stories about people who were into extreme body modification, using prosthetic limb technology to add extra limbs, or fake wings, and he also knew it was highly illegal. He couldn’t really see the point of going to all the trouble of adding something like wings to the body when they couldn’t even fly, but then again, was this really so different from tattoos or piercings?

Anyway, this was not the right time for thinking about aesthetics; it was time for action. He had to get ‘angel guy’ to his apartment before they were seen and arrested. It was obvious the man needed help, not to be treated like some kind of criminal... to be interrogated, or worse. Dean wasn’t generally one for breaking the law, but his gut instinct was telling him to protect the guy from further hurt.

_That's not gonna happen._ _Not on my watch._

"Sorry, buddy. I'm gonna have to lift you, and it's gonna hurt some. Okay?"

The lack of reaction from him was concerning, but Dean wondered if maybe he didn't speak English. That would at least explain why he wasn’t answering Dean’s questions.

Picking him up and carrying him to the car wouldn't be easy, but what other option did Dean have?

“Can you put your arm around my shoulder?” Dean hoped Angel understood what he was saying as he pulled him into his arms, and carefully and slowly lifted him off the ground.

Angel cried out in pain, but he did as instructed and put his uninjured arm around Dean’s shoulder. He stared wide-eyed at Dean as he began to carry him, out of the alleyway and through the rainy streets. He was heavy enough, but not nearly as much as he should have been for a grown man of approximately six feet in height.

Dean thanked every deity in existence for the heavy rain that was keeping most people off the streets. Angel’s wings opened out behind him, and Dean felt it was lucky that they weren’t any bigger, because if they had been they would surely be dragging on the ground. He regretted not having put his coat over Angel - to cover the wings and keep him from freezing, but at this point it would be easier to just carry on toward their destination.

The way Angel was staring at Dean was a little disconcerting; so much so that Dean was grateful that he needed to watch where they were going, and to keep his eyes peeled for other people. He also had to concentrate on not dropping the guy, because, _damn…_ his arms were starting to hurt. 

_Thank fuck it wasn’t much further._

Once they reached the sidewalk outside Dean’s apartment building, Dean decided he was going to put Angel in the backseat of his Baby for a few moments. He needed to rest until he got some power back into his arms.

Opening the door wasn’t easy by any means, but somehow Dean managed it. With a huff, he slid Angel onto the backseat, practically falling on top of him as he did. 

“Fuck me!” he exclaimed, shaking his arms and trying to get some feeling back into them. “Buddy, am I glad you don’t weigh anymore.”

He still didn’t say a word, just half laid/half sat there, whimpering slightly. As the inside of the car was already pretty wet now, Dean thought he might as well get in and sit, too, until they were ready to go up to the apartment. It wasn’t like he could make it any worse, was it? Dean was mindful of how obviously terrified Angel was, so when he sat down, he made sure to give him as much space as he possibly could. 

Now that they were out of the rain, Angel was shivering violently from the cold. Dean really had to get him inside and out of those wet clothes, but for the moment, there was another way he could help him. As a joke, he had bought Sam an old fashioned gumshoe-style trench coat when he made detective. He hadn’t actually gotten around to giving it to him yet though, and it still sat in a bag in the trunk. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” Dean said, as he opened the door and went back out into the rain. He wasted no time in opening the trunk and pulling out the coat, despite the driving rain and the ever-strengthening wind, and within seconds he was back inside the car. 

Angel’s teeth were now chattering, and the air had become uncomfortable with the way the dampness was mixing with the relative warmth of the enclosed space. The windows were fogged up and Dean swore he could see the steam rising from Angel, who hadn’t moved an inch, he noticed.

“Jeeze, you’re gonna get pneumonia if we don’t get you outta those wet clothes,” Dean said, holding out the coat. “Let’s put this around you and get you up to my apartment.”

He watched Angel closely for his reaction, wanting to know if the thought of being brought to Dean’s apartment held any kind of fear for him. His expression didn’t change, however; he looked neither happy nor unhappy at the prospect. _Curious_.

Dean leaned forward and wrapped the coat around Angel as best he could, noting that every time he so much as touched the wings he would let out a gasp. Dean figured they must be super sensitive, and he did his best to not touch them again. When he was satisfied that he’d covered him sufficiently, he opened the door once more and all but dragged Angel out of the car.

As he carried Angel through the doors and over to the elevator, Dean hoped to god they didn’t encounter any of his neighbours. How the hell would he explain _this_? After pressing the button, he looked once again at the face of the guy he realised he was now subconsciously referring to as Angel, to find him staring up at him again. Despite the apparent lifelessness in his dull grey eyes, Dean found them almost hypnotising, and he had trouble focusing on anything else for a moment.

Their acquaintance couldn’t have been more than half an hour at this point, yet Dean felt drawn to him, though he couldn’t say why. Maybe it was Dean’s protective instinct coming out… maybe it was something more than that. 

The elevator arrived at last, and Dean shifted the weight in his arms as he got into it and pressed the button for his floor. Angel winced, and Dean grimaced.

“Shit, sorry, man. You’re pretty banged up, aren’t you? But I promise I’ll take good care of you.” Dean saw Angel’s eyes widen in fear at those last words, as if they had triggered something in him.

_Dammit._

He decided to make small talk to take Angel’s mind off the sudden tension his words had caused. “What did you think of my car?” he asked, with a smile. “She’s been in my family a long time; my grandpa had her first, then my dad, now she’s mine… my Baby. I bet you can’t guess how old she is?”

He wasn’t expecting any kind of answer, so he carried on talking. “She’s nearly eighty years old; seventy eight, in fact. Can you believe that? Looks good, don’t she? Of course, she’s been modified to run on electricity now, but she still purrs like a kitten.”

He had no idea if Angel was the slightest bit interested in what he was saying, but he was damn proud of his Baby, and… finally, they had reached his floor. 

Dean knew he was going to feel this tomorrow, but he gave one last effort as he got the two of them into his apartment and laid Angel carefully on the sofa, thankfully without tripping over the coffee table. Colonel came out to greet him, wagging his tail excitedly. “Hey, little fella,” Dean smiled, “did you miss me?” Colonel’s tail sped up, and he reared up on his hind legs and lifted his front paws in the air.

“I can’t play right now. I need you to go back to sleep, 'k?” Dean felt bad about not being able to give his companion any attention, but Colonel obediently went back to his bed, laid down and closed his eyes.

Turning to Angel, Dean said, “Let me get the feeling back in my arms, then I’ll take a look at you.”

Again, there was little reaction, and Dean wondered what the hell had happened to make him this way. He was so quiet, so scared; and if he was hurt as much as Dean suspected, he either didn’t feel pain the way he should, or something had happened that was stopping him from letting on how much pain he was in. Either way, it was disturbing, and Dean wondered if he would ever get to the bottom of it.

He also wanted to get a better look at those wings. After the initial sight of them in the alleyway, he hadn’t been able to see much more than brief flashes, as his main concern had been getting Angel into his apartment. Once he had tended to the injuries, though, he hoped to see them more clearly.

Dean removed his coat and hat, went to the bedroom, and hung them on the back of the door. He really wanted to change out of his wet clothes as well, but he had a feeling he would need to go back out to the store, once he had examined all of Angel’s injuries. He walked back into the living room and saw that Angel was lying exactly where Dean had left him. He hoped the sofa wouldn’t stain from the sheer amount of rain coming off the guy, but he would worry about that later.

“I’m gonna take the coat off you and see where you’re hurt now. Is that okay?” Dean asked as gently as possible, while kneeling on the floor next to the sofa. 

Again, there was no reaction, so Dean went ahead and peeled the wet coat away from Angel’s torso. He began his examination of the injuries as tenderly as he possibly could, noting with interest that Angel seemed to be keeping his wings tucked beneath him, almost as if he was trying to hide them. He also became hyper aware of how the guy stared at him the entire time.

_Just focus on his injuries,_ Dean told himself.

It became clear very quickly that as a result of the way he had fallen, it was only the left side of his body that was hurt. The graze on his face looked sore, but was pretty superficial; the cut on his leg, however, was quite deep, and now that he was no longer being battered by the rain, blood was beginning to ooze out of it. Dean ran back to his bedroom and found an old but clean t-shirt to wrap around the wound. It might get ruined by the blood, but Dean didn’t care. It was more important to stop the bleeding until he could get the supplies needed to put in a few stitches. He also grabbed a pair of scissors to cut away the already ruined pants in order to get at the cut. That wasn’t the worst injury though; he’d bet money that Angel’s arm was broken, although thankfully, that would be relatively easy to fix. 

Normally, Dean’s first instinct in a situation like this would be to call Sam and ask for help, but this situation was anything but normal. In fact, despite how close Dean and his brother were, ultimately, Sam’s job was to enforce the law. If he found out about the existence of Dean’s angelic guest, he might feel compelled to report them both. Nope, Dean would have to deal with this on his own.

After rifling through the toolbox in his kitchen and finding the measuring tape, Dean very carefully took a few measurements of Angel’s arm, then switched on his printer. He entered the required information into his pocket computer, and the 3D cast began printing. He calculated it should be done by the time he got back. 

“So, here’s the thing,” Dean turned his attention back to Angel and explained. “I’m gonna have to run to the store to get some supplies, okay?”

He didn’t want to… he really didn’t, but what other option did he have? He had some of the things he needed, but not all, and this couldn’t wait until morning; he just hoped Angel didn’t bolt while he was gone. 

“Can you hold this here ‘til I get back?” Dean asked, gesturing to the shirt he’d placed on the wound. 

When Angel didn’t react, Dean picked up his right hand and placed it on the shirt, making him twist his body awkwardly. He briefly held the hand in place and pressed down; he was trying not to hurt the guy, but he could see in his eyes that this action caused him pain.

“Sorry, man. But you need to put pressure on it, okay?”

Angel nodded in understanding, and Dean put the trench coat back over him before grabbing an old leather jacket of his dad’s from the closet, and throwing it on as he hurried out of the apartment. 

The wait for the elevator seemed interminable, and at one point he considered taking the stairs instead. When it finally arrived he pressed the button frantically, as if that action would get him to the store faster. _Jeeze. Get a grip_. Dean realised he was panicking, and he attempted to calm himself down. It didn’t help when the elevator stopped on the next floor down and his neighbor Kevin Tran got in.

“Hey, Dean,” Kevin greeted cheerfully. “Nice night for a walk, huh?”

“Uh… yeah,” Dean answered distractedly.

“Yeah, I know that wasn’t one of my best jokes.” Kevin laughed, then peered at him curiously. “You okay, man?” 

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. I just haven’t got all the ingredients for dinner, and I need to get to the store real quick.”

“You take your cooking so seriously. You should do what I do; just throw in whatever you’ve got in the kitchen,” Kevin said with a smile.

The truth was, Dean was much more likely to do as Kevin suggested than stick rigidly to a recipe, but Kevin didn’t know that. Dean huffed a laugh, then sighed dramatically for effect. “I know, but it’s not easy to change the habits of a lifetime.”

Thankfully the elevator had reached the ground floor, and Dean no longer had to think of any excuses for his late night trip to the store. With a “Goodbye. See you around,” he rushed to the car and set off with a squeal of tires.

Dean had to stop himself from running around the store like a wild man, but he made sure not to pause except to pick up what he required. Glue, sterile wipes, tape, and a six pack of beer. Not many people drank beer these days, what with most drugs being legal, but Dean was old school. He liked the occasional beer or two, rock music, and classic cars; hell, he remembered when Baby still ran on gas.

He also remembered when the main street was full of stores, selling food, clothes, furniture… even books. Then as more and more people began to do all of their shopping online, those stores closed one by one, until they were all gone. Now all that was left was the occasional store for emergency shopping and those unfortunates at the bottom of the chain, a few restaurants and bars, hair salons, nail salons, tanning salons, and giant warehouses where the employees picked your order from the shelves and prepped it for delivery. Even the old gas stations didn’t exist anymore, now that the vehicles were all electric, or driverless. Dean shuddered inwardly at the thought of having a driverless car; that was too much to contemplate. Thank goodness for the weekly farmers’ market that still attracted enough interest to keep it viable. The fresh produce it provided to the town’s inhabitants was most welcome, plus it afforded an opportunity for people to interact with one another for a short time.

_What’s the price of progress?_ Dean pondered, as he drove past Chuck standing outside his church, looking up at the sky as if he was praying for a miracle, before he pulled up outside his apartment building once again.

Going back inside and pressing the elevator button, Dean was delighted to find that he had much less of a wait than he’d had previously, and this time it didn’t stop at any other floors. When he walked back through the front door he had been gone less than twenty five minutes, which he figured was pretty good going.

Angel was still there - thank god - and looked to be taking in his surroundings. The ergonomically designed swivel chair in front of the large curved edged window, the glass coffee table next to the sofa, the low dining table surrounded by floor cushions, a chrome lamp and a collection of chrome sculptures. Plus there was Colonel ‘sleeping’ on his bed in one corner, and his guitar in the other. It was all neat and tidy, and the red of the sofa stood out against the almost completely bare white walls - except for his screen and a picture - and white tiled floor. 

Sam had declared that the entire room was ‘a mood’, whatever that meant. Dean had rolled his eyes and flicked his brother’s ear in response. He found the room aesthetically pleasing, so screw what anyone else thought.

“Hey,” Dean said, and Angel turned his attention to him. “I’m just gonna change outta these wet clothes, then I’ll fix you up, okay?”

Angel nodded, as Dean went to the kitchen to stick the beers in the fridge before going to the bedroom. He hung the now wet jacket next to the coat, then quickly stripped off his shirt, pants, shoes and socks, and pulled on a sweater, a pair of pyjama pants, and some soft, thick socks. He loved the rain, yes, but getting into dry clothes felt comforting, which reminded him; as soon as Angel was stitched up and casted, Dean needed to get him into some dry clothes, too.

Padding out into the living room on his socked feet, Dean picked up the bag he’d left on the table, as he wondered which he should attend to first; the broken arm or the wound. 

Looking at the printer, he could see that the cast was ready, and that helped him decide on his plan of action. Gluing the two sides of the cast together would take far less time than the stitching, and Angel would be able to move easier once his arm was immobilized. 

_Arm first, leg second._

Dean picked up the pieces of biodegradable plastic, and brought them over to Angel. After removing the trench coat and putting it to one side once more, it took a few moments of sorting out to get him in the right position, then Dean gently placed one half of the cast under the arm, before manipulating the broken bone into the correct position in order for it to set properly. 

Angel cried out in pain and his body tensed, and his wings flared out in an almost threatening manner. 

Dean immediately started trying to soothe him. "I'm really sorry, but if I don’t do this it won’t set right." He stroked his hand over the skin of Angel’s upper arm in a calming gesture; a gesture that seemed to confuse Angel. It was almost as if he expected the pain, but not the comfort, so Dean made sure to give it to him in spades, humming softly and touching gently as he worked.

When Dean was satisfied that the arm was properly situated, he placed the other half of the cast over the top to hold it in place, then started gluing the two pieces together. Fifteen minutes later, he had finished his task, and Angel's arm was encased perfectly in its temporary shell.

_Sweet_. Now for the hard part.

Dean got a tray from the kitchen, and on it he placed a needle threaded with some silk thread Benny had given him, the sterile wipes and tape, a bandage, a lighter, a brand new pair of latex gloves, and the scissors he’d used earlier.

When they were both teenagers, he and Sam had gotten into a bit of a scrape out in the woods, and he'd had to put a couple of stitches in Sam's arm. The scar didn't look too pretty, but it had stopped the bleeding, plus it meant that Dean knew he could do this. This time the circumstances were a lot less fraught, and he was able to thoroughly sterilise the needle.

After putting the tray down on the coffee table, Dean went to the bathroom and scrubbed his hands until they were red. He came back to the living room holding them out in front of himself like he was some kind of surgeon, then pulled on the gloves and opened the pack of wipes.

“I feel like I’m always apologising, but I'm sorry, this is gonna hurt like a sonovabitch," Dean said, before kneeling in front of him and starting to clean around the cut. 

Angel winced, and Dean could see him gritting his teeth and clutching on to the side of the sofa until his knuckles turned white. Again, his wings flared out, but Dean was certain it was an involuntary reaction.

Once Dean had decided that the cut was clean enough, he used another wipe to clean the lighter, then flicked it on and held the needle over the flame.

Flicking it off and laying it back on the tray, Dean shot Angel a look which he hoped conveyed his regret for what was about to happen. "You must be damn sick of me apologising then hurting you, so I'm gonna shut my mouth now, and get this over with. It is gonna hurt, but I'll be as quick as I can be, okay?"

Angel nodded, then readied himself by closing his eyes and gripping the sofa tightly again. Dean put in three stitches, working as swiftly as possible, knowing that if he slowed down it would just draw the pain out even longer.

Dean avoided looking at Angel's face, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get this finished if he saw how much pain he was in, but he noted every gasp and grunt Angel let out.

Finally he was done, and Dean let out a long breath. He allowed himself a look at Angel's face, and was mortified to see a tear rolling down his cheek. 

_Shit._

“Oh man, I’m so fucking s-“ Dean started, but stopped himself before that damn word left his mouth again. “I’m… gonna put this bandage on the wound, clean you up and get you out of these wet clothes. I mean, er… get some dry clothes on you. Then I’ll fix us something to eat, oh… and get you some painkillers. Sound good?” He knew he was rambling, but the way Angel was staring at him was disconcerting, to say the least.

Angel gave a small nod and wiped the tear from his face, as Dean wound the bandage around the wound and secured it with the tape. “Okay, that should hold,” he said as he took the tray back into the kitchen, grabbed a plastic bowl, and filled it with hot water.

Once he’d brought the bowl out to the living room and set it on the coffee table, he made a quick trip to the bathroom for a washcloth, soap, and towel, then when he returned he slowly got Angel to sit up. Angel had to hold on to Dean’s arm for support, and he looked a little dazed for a few seconds once he was upright, but he sat still and waited for Dean to wash him. 

“What the hell happened to you, huh?” Dean asked, not expecting an answer, as he sat next to Angel and gently took hold of his chin to start washing the uninjured side of his face. When it was clean he switched to the side with the graze, dabbing at it, rather than wiping it. Although doing it like this would take longer, he figured this had to be less painful for the guy. Also, there was really no avoiding that gaze now; to Dean it felt as if the guy was trying to see into his soul.

_Maybe he actually is an angel._

A charged moment seemed to pass between them as their eyes locked, and Dean faltered in his movements for a moment. Despite Angel’s condition - injured, dishevelled, and scared - there was no denying that he was attractive. _And that is so inappropriate,_ Dean admonished himself. The guy was vulnerable and totally at Dean’s mercy. He coughed to cover up his thoughts and looked away, concentrating once more on the task at hand.

After running the washcloth over Angel’s hair, his shoulders, chest and arms, then towelling him dry, Dean hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he should wash the wings, and the way Angel had them folded behind him seemed to be indicating that he didn’t want them touched. Or even for Dean to look at them.

Deciding to broach the subject anyway, Dean asked uncertainly, “Do… do you wanna wash your wings? Can you even reach them?” 

Angel lowered his gaze and shook his head. He looked ashamed, and Dean felt bad for mentioning them.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, turning his attention to Angel’s feet. Unlike the rest of the body parts he had washed, which were mostly smeared with a superficial layer of dirt, his feet were filthy. Dean couldn’t tell if they hadn’t been washed for a long time, or if he’d walked through something nasty, not that it made any difference to what he needed to do, though. Knowing that it would make his task easier, Dean knelt down on the floor, in front of Angel once again, then thoroughly but carefully, washed and dried his feet.

“There, that’s better,” Dean said with a smile, as he finished drying his hands and got up off the floor stiffly after so much kneeling. 

“Now, do you think you can stand?” Dean held his hand out to Angel, adding, “If we can get you to the bathroom, you can take care of any, er… business you might have, and take off what’s left of these pants.”

Taking hold of Dean’s hand, Angel got to his feet painstakingly slowly, then let go and stood still, as if he was waiting for further instruction.

“You need my help, or can you make it on your own?” Dean gestured towards the bathroom door on the other side of the living room.

Just as slowly as he had been in getting to his feet, Angel made his way across the room. Thankfully, walking didn’t seem to be too difficult for him, and he got to the door without further need for assistance.

“Okay, go do… whatever you need to, and I’m gonna get you some clean clothes. 'k? Use the towel and washcloth on the shelf behind the door… they’re clean.” Dean nodded at Angel as he peered curiously into the bathroom, then went in and closed the door behind him.

Before going to search for fresh clothes for his guest, Dean took a quick look at his sofa. There were a couple of marks that would need scrubbing, but he was sure he could get them out. He went into the bedroom and found a spare pair of pajama pants, boxers, socks, and an old t-shirt that he thought would be a pretty good fit. About to bring them to Angel, he pulled up as a realisation hit him. 

_How the fuck was he supposed to put a regular shirt on over those wings?_

Dean practically face palmed himself at not thinking of this sooner. It never got cold in his apartment - the equilibrium controls keeping the entire building at a constant temperature made sure of that - but he doubted Angel would be comfortable walking around shirtless all the time. Dean certainly wouldn’t complain about the view, but… he didn’t think that he should be spending all his time ogling his guest.

_Stop thinking about his body_ , Dean told himself, as he went to the kitchen, picked up the scissors, and cut two long slits into the back of the t-shirt. It wasn’t the neatest piece of improvisation, but it would do for the time being. 

Dean knocked on the bathroom door, and called out, “You okay in there? I’ve got some clothes for you.”

He heard some muffled noises, then the bathroom door opened and Angel poked his head out. Dean saw that he was holding the towel around his waist, and his pants were discarded on the floor. 

_Those would be going straight in the trash._

Dean handed him the clothes, which he took awkwardly with his broken arm before disappearing back inside the bathroom again.

Hoping Angel could manage okay, Dean went into the kitchen and began preparing something for them to eat. He had no idea what the man liked, so he would have to take a chance and hope for the best. The electronic display on his fridge told him that it held a vacuum pack of chicken breasts, a pack of ground beef, a couple of slices of bacon, half a dozen eggs, a tomato, a bag of salad leaves, a jar of pickles, a carton of milk substitute for his coffee, a bottle of orange juice, and the beers he’d bought earlier. 

_Burgers…_ he would make burgers, and fry some slices of potato - there were a few in a bag in the cupboard - and tomorrow he would place his shopping order.

Softly humming to himself as he worked, Dean shaped the burgers, and peeled and sliced the potatoes. He was about to start cooking when he heard a sound from the kitchen doorway; he looked up to find Angel standing watching him, clutching the shirt in his hand. He was wearing the pants and socks - and presumably the boxers, too - but obviously pulling on the shirt by himself was too hard. He did have a broken arm, after all.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Dean went over to him, took the shirt, and pulled it over his head. He hoped he wasn’t being too forceful, but it wasn’t like the guy was going to ask for help, was it?

Now the shirt was around Angel’s neck, Dean wondered how the hell he was going to get his wings through the holes in the back. He would just have to get it done as quickly as possible. 

Walking around behind him, Dean stopped dead in his tracks at what he saw. As well as getting a good look at the quite stunning wings, he could see that Angel’s back was dotted with scars. It looked like he’d been repeatedly cut open.

_What the hell?_

Dean’s heart broke a little for the man in front of him in that moment, and yes… he was a man, not an angel, he could see that clearly now. There were visible surgery scars where the wings were attached to his back, and the wings were very obviously artificial. They were white and had a sleek shine to them and were speckled with faint blue spots, and at first glance they could be mistaken for the real thing. Dean was going to have to touch them if he was going to get this shirt on Angel, but he would try to keep the touch to a minimum; he certainly wouldn’t run his hands through the feathers like he wanted to, he would never violate his trust in that way.

“Put your arms through the sleeves,” Dean coaxed, waiting while Angel did just that, mesmerised by the way his wings shifted as he moved his arms.

_Quit stalling and just do it,_ he told himself, as he said, “I’m gonna have to pull your wings through the back here, okay?”

Angel hung his head in… _shame?_ _Fear?_ But he didn’t move away, so Dean lowered the back of the shirt and pulled first one wing, then the other, through the holes. They felt amazing - Dean couldn’t deny that - silky smooth and delicate, and not like anything he’d felt before. As earlier, when Dean had touched them as he wrapped Angel in the coat, he gasped at every touch, but yet he barely moved. Even though Dean sensed that what Angel really wanted to do was run, it felt like he was exercising control over himself… holding himself back. 

To say Dean was intrigued by the guy was the biggest understatement of his life, and he both wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery, and get his hands on the fucker who’d damaged Angel so bad that he hardly reacted to pain. It had to be really severe for him to cry out.

Dean moved to stand in front of Angel once more, and shot him one of his most charming smiles. “Now you’re dressed for dinner,” he said with a wink. “It won’t be long. Make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to the sofa, but Angel went to sit in the chair, angling himself to gaze out of the window.

Feeling it was best to leave Angel be for the moment, Dean went back into the kitchen, and began to cook, every once in a while poking his head out to check on him, and at one point bringing him a glass of orange juice, which he swallowed in one go. He sat quite still, wings folded close to his back, his good arm resting on his leg, and his chin in his hand. Dean could almost believe he was content, with the way he was looking out at the city 

When the burgers and fried potatoes were ready, Dean shared them between two plates, added some salad leaves and half a tomato each, and brought them through to the living room.

“You hungry?” he asked as he placed the plates on the dining table, and Angel turned around, eyes widening at the sight of the food.

He nodded and got off the chair, and Dean thought he saw a hint of a smile playing on those lips. Dean tried not to show how pleased he was at Angel’s reaction, but he inwardly congratulated himself at making the right choice for their meal.

“Sit,” he said. “I’m just gonna grab some silverware and a couple of beers.”

By the time he returned, Angel was sitting on one of the cushions, and was eyeing Colonel warily. Dean sat himself opposite Angel, put a knife and fork, and a bottle of beer in front of him, then gestured toward Colonel with his thumb. 

“You want me to turn him off?” he asked. “If he’s making you uncomfortable, or…” he trailed off, wondering if the very obvious mechanical appearance of his ‘dog’ was freaking Angel out. It would be perfectly understandable, given the circumstances.

Angel glared at him and pursed his lips together, in a clear indication that he was not pleased with that suggestion.

_Whoa._ That was the first time he’d seen any real emotion from Angel - besides fear - and he felt the full force of it. “Oookay, not gonna do that. I wasn’t sure if he… um… if you didn’t like how he looks.”

Angel raised a quizzical brow at him, and Dean felt it was time to put all his cards on the table.

“So, here’s the thing,” he started. “I don’t know your name - I’m Dean, by the way - or where you’re from, but I do know you need help… looking after. I know my apartment isn’t very big, but I want you to stay here as long as you need. At least until you’re healed, but longer if you need to. _Mi casa es su casa_.”

Angel stared at him in what could only be described as wonder, as he processed Dean’s words, until Dean began to feel uncomfortable himself.

“It’s no big deal.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Now, eat your food before it gets cold, Angel.”

There was a barely-there reaction from Angel at hearing the name Dean had given him; a brief look of surprise. He looked like he was considering the name, and Dean started to think maybe it was a bit much under the circumstances.

“Is that okay? Me calling you Angel? I need to call you something… maybe a different name.” He racked his brains trying to think of one. “... Steve? Would that be better?”

Angel shook his head.

“Not Steve?” Dean asked for confirmation.

Another shake of the head.

“Angel?”

Angel gave a little nod, and Dean noticed that smile trying to break through again.

“Awesome. Angel…” Dean lifted his palm towards Angel, then placed it on his own chest. “Dean. Now let’s eat.”

Angel wolfed the food down like he couldn’t remember the last time he ate, and Dean had to stop himself from leaving his own meal and just watching him, instead of sneaking occasional glances. He was also concerned that Angel would make himself sick if, as Dean suspected, he wasn’t used to eating regularly.

“Well, it's good to know you’re a fan of my cooking, anyway," Dean laughed. 

Angel jumped as Dean’s voice cut through the silence, and he stopped eating for a second, before taking another bite.

“Maybe… slow down a bit?” Dean gave Angel an imploring look, and this seemed to have the desired effect, as he began to eat at a more healthy pace.

Dean began to wonder if giving Angel a beer had been a good idea. He’d taken one sip, but hadn’t touched it since. He got up and went to the kitchen, coming back with the bottle of orange juice and a glass. “Help yourself,” he urged, as he sat back down.

Angel looked at the bottle and the glass, but didn’t move to pour himself a drink. Dean was getting the feeling that whatever had happened to him that left him in this state had involved him being told what he could and couldn’t do, to the extent that he wouldn’t take anything unless it was given to him. Dean tried not to show how awful this realisation was, as he poured some orange juice into the glass and handed it to Angel.

Angel took it and drank gratefully, and Dean poured him another. It probably wasn’t a great idea to drink nothing but fruit juice though, and Dean knew he would have to order some alternative drinks tomorrow.

By the time they’d finished eating and Dean had cleared the table, it was past midnight and Dean was exhausted. The last four hours or so had been pretty mind blowing, plus his arms were still aching from carrying Angel.

“I dunno about you, but I think it’s about bedtime,” he said, yawning and stretching his arms; a move he instantly regretted.

A look of worry crossed Angel’s face, as his eyes darted around the small apartment, obviously thinking that Dean expected they would be sharing his bed.

“No, no. You’re sleeping in there,” Dean waved towards the bedroom, “and I’m gonna make myself comfortable in here.”

Angel shook his head frantically, and Dean realised that he needed to show as much determination as possible, without spooking him.

“You’re injured; I’m not. You need to sleep in a bed, no argument. Okay?” Dean spoke firmly, and Angel calmed down as he appeared to accept that Dean wasn’t going to budge on this.

Despite the tiredness that was now seeping into his very bones, Dean insisted on bringing his own bed covers into the living room and giving Angel a clean set. He sent Angel back to the bathroom, this time with a brand new toothbrush, and made himself a bed on the floor out of the cushions and a stack of his mom’s old blankets he’d stored away as a keepsake.

“Night, Angel,” Dean said, as the man exited the bathroom and made his way uncertainly into the bedroom. He stopped long enough to nod in Dean’s direction, then closed the door behind him, and Dean let out a sigh of relief.

_What a day,_ Dean thought, as he used the bathroom himself, before getting comfortable on his makeshift bed. Luckily, he was so tired he didn’t have the energy to lie there tossing and turning, fretting about his mysterious guest. Sleep took him under almost as soon as he hit the pillow, and he slept soundly until a noise woke him at three twenty seven, according to his clock. He bolted upright, listening to see if he could hear it again.

A few seconds passed, then he heard it; an unintelligible shout coming from his bedroom. He crept out of bed, and hovered by the door, wondering if he should go in or allow Angel some privacy. When he heard it again, however, louder and more frantic sounding, he opened the door and saw Angel thrashing about on the bed, whimpering and crying, and as he got closer he could see tears pouring down his face. 

It looked like he was having a pretty harrowing nightmare, and Dean was torn about what to do. But when he cried out in pain and said, ‘no… no… ag,’ Dean knew he had to do something.

He put his hand on Angel’s shoulder and shook him gently. “Angel? It’s just a dream; you’re safe.”

Angel’s eyes shot open and he let out a yelp in shock, then curled himself away from Dean, into the fetal position. 

_Shit._

“Hey, hey. It’s me, Dean,” he said as calmly as possible. “I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re okay.”

Angel began to sob silently, his body shaking as he let it out. Dean wanted to hold him… to soothe away his distress, but how could he know if Angel would want that? It might make things worse. If he tried and it upset him even more, he would never forgive himself.

Making a decision to offer some kind of comfort, Dean sat on the edge of the bed and tentatively put his hand on Angel’s back between his wings, and began rubbing in a circular motion. Angel flinched at first, but after a few moments he became less tense and his breathing started evening out. 

Eventually, Dean sensed that Angel had fallen back to sleep, and he stood back up and tiptoed out of the room. 

Falling asleep wasn’t so easy this time, mainly because he was worrying about Angel, but Dean also found himself reflecting on how he had unexpectedly heard Angel speak for the first time. Although it had only been a couple of words, it was enough to hear that his voice had a deep, almost gravelly timbre; the kind of voice that under different circumstances would have Dean wondering how his name would sound on those lips. Hopefully Dean would get to hear it again tomorrow, although he suspected that Angel speaking normally, not just when he was in the clutches of a nightmare, might not happen anytime soon.

Dean finally drifted off to sleep, and had an upsetting dream in which he was trying to release a bird trapped in a cage.


	2. Chapter 2

When Dean awoke in the morning, sunlight was streaming through the window. Belatedly realising that the lack of drapes or blinds in the living room was going to be a problem if he wanted to sleep late, he sat up and noted the time. Eight-oh-two.

Colonel was waiting patiently beside the makeshift bed, and as Dean held his hand out, the dog’s tail began to wag in greeting. “Hey, little buddy,” he patted Colonel’s head, and Colonel stuck his tongue out and panted. “Sorry for sending you to bed like that last night. It was an emergency.” 

Colonel crouched down, then rolled onto his back so Dean could rub his belly. “Who’s a good boy?” Dean asked, as Colonel wriggled happily under his touch. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Dean really needed to pee. He made a couple of adjustments to Colonel’s settings, so that he would only react if his name was called, then went to the bathroom. 

When he’d used the toilet and brushed his teeth, Dean went to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, then returned to the living room and folded the blankets and bedcovers and placed the cushions back where they belonged.

The coffee was ready, but there was no sign of Angel yet. Dean poured himself a cup and stretched his arms; they still ached some, but a good shower should help with that. Just as he was wondering how he was going to get to his clothes, the bedroom door opened, and Angel stepped out into the living room.

Worrying that mentioning the nightmare could bring up painful memories for Angel, or make him uncomfortable, Dean opted for a cheery, “Mornin’, Angel. Coffee?”

Angel’s face lit up at the word ‘coffee’, and Dean poured him a cup and handed it to him with a smile. 

Angel peered into the cup as if he was looking for something. _Oh… right._ “You want milk? Sugar?”

Angel nodded, and Dean motioned to the fridge.

“It’s not actually milk - I’m lactose intolerant - but it tastes as good as the real thing. Sugar’s in the cupboard up there.” He pointed to the cupboard in question, then got a spoon from the drawer and placed it in Angel’s hand. “Help yourself.”

Dean watched as Angel added a generous amount of ‘milk’ to his coffee, then spoonful after spoonful of sugar. 

“You want some coffee with that sugar?” Dean joked, and Angel stopped instantly, as shame spread over his face.

“Hey, you take as much sugar as you want. I was joking with you.” Dean lowered his face to make eye contact with Angel, until he was satisfied that he understood.

Angel nodded his head and returned his attention to his coffee, but he didn’t take any more sugar. As he took his first sip of the drink, Dean found himself mesmerised by his reaction. He closed his eyes and his lips turned up into a satisfied smile, as if it was the greatest thing he’d ever tasted. 

When he opened his eyes he caught Dean watching him, and Dean suddenly felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. He couldn’t look away, and they stared at each other for far longer than would be considered normal. The guy’s gaze was piercing, and once again Dean felt like he was looking into his soul.

They might have stayed like that for hours if they weren’t suddenly jolted out of their staring match by the sound of a jet of steam escaping the coffee machine.

Dean coughed awkwardly and looked away, before pouring himself another cup. He wasn’t going to get anything done at this rate, if he and Angel were going to spend all their time staring at each other.

“I need a shower,” he said, exaggeratedly sniffing his armpits and making a face in mock disgust. “You need to use the bathroom first?”

Angel nodded his head, and immediately put the cup down and went off to the bathroom.

_Must remember to prompt him,_ Dean told himself, remembering that Angel didn’t seem inclined to do anything without first being told he was allowed.

When Angel returned, Dean told him that he could have as much coffee as he wanted, even showing him how to make more once the pot was empty. Whether he would actually do that remained to be seen, but he hoped that some gentle coaxing would help.

"I'm gonna get changed in the bedroom after…" Dean started, feeling the need to tell Angel this in case he suddenly got the urge to start exploring the apartment. Sure, it was unlikely, but it could get awkward as hell if one of them walked in on the other when they were naked. 

Once he was as certain as he could be that Angel understood what he was hinting at, Dean went for his shower. The entire time he was under the spray, his mind was in turmoil, wondering about his mysterious guest; who had done this to him and why, what exactly had been done to him, what was with that intense stare, and why did he have to be so damned attractive?

Of course he found no answers to any of those questions, so Dean decided that for today at least he would focus on encouraging Angel to feel more at home… more at ease.

Where was 'home' anyway? Was anyone missing him… wondering where he was? Dean had so many questions, and not one answer. 

This train of thought got Dean thinking about Sam again. Was there any way Dean could subtly bring up the subject of missing persons without raising suspicion? Or even maybe if any other people had been found with wings. Without using the word 'other', obviously. 

Dean also wanted to enquire about what the authorities would do to a person with extreme body modifications if they were apprehended. Would they surgically remove or alter them? The thought of this was enough to make him tread very carefully; forcibly removing those beautiful wings would be awful, quite apart from it meaning Angel would go through yet more trauma.

Dean was still musing on these questions when he was finished dressing and ready to face what this day would throw at him… hopefully. Coming back out feeling refreshed, he found Angel in the kitchen exactly where he’d left him.

It seemed Dean was going to have to give Angel very specific instructions on what he was allowed to do, if he didn’t want him staying in one place out of fear. That was a pretty sobering thought, but he was pleased to see that Angel had poured himself another cup of coffee. 

“You want a shower?” Dean asked.

Although he never knew what reaction he would get from the guy, Dean was shocked to see the frightened look that spread across Angel’s face.

_Okay,_ _not a good suggestion._ “It’s no biggie,” Dean reassured him. “Tomorrow… leave it ‘til tomorrow.”

Dean wasn’t too sure that twenty four hours would make Angel feel any less unhappy about a shower, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

“Time to eat,” Dean said, clapping his hands together. “You like eggs?”

Angel nodded, and Dean set about making an omelette with fried bacon, and grabbed some nice bread he got from the most recent farmers' market. 

They ate once again at the table in the living room, and once again, Angel went for the food like he might not get any more in the foreseeable future. Dean was both fascinated and appalled by what this revealed about Angel; he seemed to like whatever food he was given, but… he would guess that either food had been deliberately withheld from him, or he had not been fed regularly because of neglect. Both of those scenarios were horrible to contemplate.

When the food was finished, and Dean had put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, he got Angel to sit on the sofa so that he could check his injuries. He started with the leg wound, unwinding the bandage carefully, but was surprised to find that it was healing much faster than he would have expected. 

The cut looked clean and pretty neat, and if Dean didn't know any better he would have thought that it was at least a week since he'd put the stitches in. Now that he looked closer, Dean noticed that the graze on Angel's face was much more faded than it should have been. 

"It looks good," Dean said, not knowing if he should broach the subject of the super fast healing. "How's the arm?"

Angel held his arm up and wiggled his fingers, then nodded his head and gave a little smile. 

_Yep_ , it looked as if Angel's broken arm was repairing itself just as fast as his other injuries, and Dean desperately wanted to know how this was happening.

As he was wondering if Angel would ever be able to communicate with anything more than a nod or shake of the head, a thought occurred to him. What if he gave him paper and a pen? Sure, it was old fashioned, and Dean wasn't even certain he had a pen, but it was worth a try, wasn't it?

"Hey, seeing as how you're not too big on talking, how about writing? Could you write your name?"

There was a box of stuff in a closet in his bedroom, so he went and got it, hoping to find a pen in there. Bringing it back into the living room, he placed it on the table, removed the lid, and began rummaging through the contents. 

The first thing Dean found was an old camera which hadn’t been touched in over a decade. It felt strange holding it in his hands now, but it was a nice piece of nostalgia, and he wondered if there was any way to check if there were any photos on it. Putting it back, he spotted some other things he hadn’t looked at in years; an old two dollar bill that his grandpa had given him when he was a child, a bolo tie from his teen obsession with cowboys (although where Sam had found the tie, he would never know), and an amulet that Sam had given him when they were kids. It was a strange looking thing, with a creepy looking face, but Dean had treasured it, and affectionately referred to it as the Samulet.

There was also their dad’s journal, which he’d started and written in regularly after their mom had died when Dean was four - Dean had added the occasional note, too - a few family photographs, and his dad’s ancient collection of cassette tapes. Unlike all the other tapes, the mixtape their dad had made for his wife was one that never got played, even when the old man was still alive, but Dean treasured it as much as the blankets.

Dean found a couple of pens, and he fished them out, hoping that at least one of them would work. Angel had been watching him closely as he searched through the box, and he tilted his head curiously when Dean scribbled on the piece of paper he tore from one of his notebooks. It took a minute or so before any ink appeared, but at last it made a clear mark.

"We have a winner," Dean said, triumphantly, as he put the paper in front of Angel and placed the pen on top of that. "I thought you might want to write something… you know. Your name, or anything else you want to say."

Angel stared at the pen and paper for what felt like forever, and Dean could see from his expression that the thought was making him anxious. For some reason, it seemed he was scared to touch them, but eventually, he picked up the pen and began to write. 

  
_Great_ , thought Dean, until he saw what he'd written. It wasn't in English; in fact it wasn't like any language Dean had seen before.

Angel looked at Dean expectantly, obviously hoping that he’d done well. Dean picked the paper off the table and smiled, even though he was more confused than ever. Angel seemed to understand everything Dean said to him, but yet he neither spoke nor wrote English, except when he was in the middle of a nightmare.

“That’s your name, huh?” Dean said, picking the paper up and examining it closely. “Good job, buddy.” It told him nothing, but maybe he could scan it and search the internet for clues later.

Dean returned the box to where it rested once more, and put the paper with the strange writing in one of the kitchen drawers underneath the clean dish cloths, then turned to his next task of placing a shopping order. After getting comfortable on the sofa, he took his computer from his pocket and said “shop” to pull up the correct page, then began choosing the items he wanted. Saying the names of the products, like ‘bread’ and ‘bacon’ showed Dean a range of options to choose from, and for the next half an hour or so, he was engrossed in his virtual shopping trip. 

While he was busy with this, Dean noticed with interest Angel once again situating himself on the chair next to the window, and gazing out at the street below. He seemed quite content like this, so Dean figured he would leave him alone to watch this little piece of the world go by.

Once Dean had submitted his order, he slapped his hands on his thighs and said decisively, "Time to get some work done, I guess."

Angel jumped at the sudden noise, and Dean held up his hand in apology. "Sorry, man," he said, before going across the room to pick up his guitar.

Sitting back down with it, he gave the verbal command “notebook” to the computer, and it pulled up his notes from yesterday. He read through them, reacquainting himself with the most recent song he’d worked on.

The truth was, Dean didn't actually need to work at all. Some years ago he'd made a sizeable amount of money from a couple of mega hits he'd written, and he had more than enough to support himself comfortably for the rest of his life. He enjoyed the process too much to give it up though; picking out a tune then writing the lyrics, and working on them until it sounded right. It gave him great satisfaction to know that he'd created something that would give him - and hopefully others - pleasure. 

It was also nice to know that in this society where almost everything was computerised, creating art was still something only a human could do. Smiling at the thought, Dean began plucking the guitar strings and humming softly to himself.

As the music floated through the air, Angel turned around in his seat for the first time since he had sat down, and watched transfixed as Dean lost himself in the tune. It was intended to be a rock song, but Dean wondered if, with just his voice and an acoustic guitar, it could sound quite soothing. 

Angel certainly seemed to like it anyway, and he alternated between closing his eyes to soak in the music, and staring intensely at Dean, watching his hands move over the strings with a practiced ease.

At first it was kind of disconcerting, but eventually Dean managed to concentrate on his work enough to almost forget that the other guy was there. Not that he wanted to forget about this alluringly mysterious creature who had fallen into his path - not for one second - but if he didn’t carry on with his normal everyday life, what were they going to do? A conversation was out of the question… sit and stare at each other? That would get awkward real fast. 

Maybe they could play some games later, Dean mused. He would pull a few up on his screen and see which ones Angel liked. _Yeah, good plan_.

With a few stops for coffee, snacks, and bathroom breaks, the day wore on. Dean found it mildly frustrating that Angel wouldn’t get himself a coffee without being prompted, despite telling him he could, but he just hoped that eventually it would sink in. It would be good to see him go to the kitchen on his own and return with a drink in his hand.

Once the drone had delivered the order to the collection hatch outside Dean’s apartment, he stopped work for the day and brought the shopping inside to put away. Angel moved away from the window and hovered by the kitchen door, until Dean turned and smiled at him. “You wanna make yourself useful?”

The look on Angel’s face indicated that Dean had said something wrong, and it took him a few moments to catch on to what it was. 

“I didn’t mean you’re not useful.” Dean held his hands up in apology. “I was just wondering if you wanted to help me put the shopping away, that’s all. It’s no biggie.” He realised that he was going to have to be more careful about what he said… the words he used.

Angel seemed to like the thought of helping, and once he was in the kitchen, he threw himself into the task. There was very little room to manoeuvre with them both in the room, so Dean passed Angel the items, and told him the correct place to put each one.

Dean filled the silence with as much small talk as he could think of, saying things like, "I hope you're gonna like what I cook," and "In this jar is the best damn jelly I ever tasted."

Angel would listen as if Dean was telling him the most important thing he ever heard, and Dean started to wonder if he was really that fascinating. 

When they had finished, Dean set up one of his games on the screen in the living room. It was one of the old classics - 3D Tetris. He explained how the game worked and gave a demonstration of the controls, then left Angel to play while he made them a dinner of chicken and rice. It wasn’t until he’d checked on Angel a couple of times that he suddenly noticed how well he was using his left hand. It was hard to believe that he had a broken arm, but then again he was pretty sure it was continuing to heal as fast as the cut and graze. 

Dean stared at Angel’s face as he bit his lip while focusing all his attention onto the game. The graze had all but disappeared, and… dear god, he really was unbelievably handsome. The way he was nibbling on his lip in concentration drew Dean’s attention to them, and how deliciously plump and pink they were. Had they always been that attractive?

There was also his hair, which was kind of wild and untamed, but not in a messy way; more like dramatically windswept. And the wings… when Angel wasn’t consciously trying to hide them, they flared out behind him slightly, and man, were they beautiful. The light from the ceiling reflected off them as they moved, creating a kind of bluish-white glow around him.

Thank god Dean needed to finish preparing the meal; the longer he stood there watching Angel, the more he felt like a creeper. Turning his attention back to his cooking, he tried to think about anything other than the man in his living room… and failed. 

Thinking about the way Angel moved those elegant hands over the controller suddenly gave Dean an idea. The whole writing thing hadn’t worked out, and it didn’t look like Angel was going to start talking anytime soon, but what about sign language?

Dean would call up Eileen tomorrow and ask her for some pointers. Of course, he would have to be cagey about why the sudden interest; her being Sam’s wife meant that if she found out about Angel, she might feel the need to tell her husband. Maybe if he put it to her as a general inquiry, and told her that he was feeling bad that he never fully learned… yeah, she'd believe that, wouldn’t she?

Dinner was ready, and Dean dished it up then brought it through to the living room. "Food's ready," he said, as he put the plates on the table.

He headed back to the kitchen for forks and drinks, and when he returned he found that Angel hadn't moved. He was really engrossed in that game. "Get it while it's still hot… if you can tear yourself away," he joked. 

Angel dropped the controller, and an expression of guilt spread across his face. 

"Hey, I was only messing with you," Dean said, feeling just as guilty as Angel looked. "You take as long as you want - it's good to see you enjoying it."

The game was abandoned and Angel was already across the room, however, and Dean was kicking himself for being so thoughtless. He really needed to engage his brain before he spoke.

"I'll show you a different game after dinner." Dean waved his fork, face colouring as the words came out of his mouth. 

_Case in point._

"Video game… I mean," he added, hoping that Angel hadn't picked up on the unintentional innuendo.

Angel nodded, and started to eat, with as much enthusiasm as ever. The need for food was obviously more important than anything else in that moment, and Dean was glad of it.

Dean had poured Angel a glass of water and added some ice cubes, and he drank it as greedily as he did every other drink. It was hard not to stare, as a stray drop of water escaped and ran down his chin. Not staring became even harder when Angel licked his lips seductively. At least that's how it felt to Dean anyway.

_Stop looking at his mouth. Jeez._

Dean had a feeling that that mouth was going to become a feature in his nighttime fantasies from now on. 

"What did you think of the game?" he asked, in an attempt to distract himself. "Did you kick its butt?"

Angel paused shovelling food into his mouth long enough to shoot him a smile.

"That's great," Dean smiled back. He meant that, too; he knew that playing video games wasn't going to magically fix the guy's problems, but it sure was nice to see him having fun.

They finished eating, and Dean patted his belly in satisfaction. He then watched in astonishment when Angel jumped up and grabbed the dishes before Dean had the chance to. 

"Hey man, you don't need to…" he started to protest, but he could hear Angel putting everything in the dishwasher. He stopped himself from saying anything more, realising that Angel clearly wanted to help, and to feel useful. 

Dean picked up the glasses, brought them into the kitchen, and handed them to Angel. He looked so pleased with himself that Dean reached out his hand and patted him on the shoulder. 

Dean's words of thanks died in his throat as he noticed how Angel flinched at his touch. 

_Goddammit._

"Shit, I'm sorry man." Dean raised his hands in a gesture of apology, and backed away a little. "I wouldn't ever hurt you; I hope you know that. But why would you trust me? You don't even know me."

Dean had to stop himself from kicking out at the door frame in frustration, but this incident forced him to acknowledge that he needed to get to the bottom of what had happened to Angel. It was only right that the person - or persons - responsible for treating another human being so appallingly should face justice.

The look of sadness Angel was now giving him only made him feel worse. _Time to change the subject._

"How about that game? The other one I was gonna show you?" Dean hoped that Angel would appreciate the subject change. 

Angel closed up the dishwasher and nodded, then followed Dean back out to the living room. As he got comfortable on the sofa once more, Dean set up the game, then sat next to him, making sure the gap was large enough that they wouldn't be touching. 

The graphics appeared on the screen, and Dean began to explain, “It’s a racing game, retro… you know, with old-style cars. You pick the one you want, customise it, and then we race around the track.” None of the cars in this game were actually racing cars, it was more about nostalgia than anything else, which was why Dean loved it.

Angel nodded, then peered at the screen as he used his controller to scroll through a choice of cars, stopping at one that Dean thought was particularly hideous. It was gold, and according to the information on the screen it was a 1978 Lincoln Continental Mark V. Dean wasn’t going to criticise, though; he was more than happy to see Angel relaxing and enjoying himself. 

When Angel had finished customising his car with some interesting wheel trims, Dean showed him the car he’d already saved. Naturally it was a 1967 Chevy Impala - black, of course - which Dean had customised by adding the initials DW to the license plate. Other than that, he had left it as it was; it was perfect to him anyway.

The game started, and they raced around the track, trying to dodge the other cars. As always, it was great fun, but this time even more so, because Dean had a real person to play against for once. Every time one of their cars crashed into the barrier, or another car, Dean laughed uproariously, and he caught Angel grinning happily more than once.

After that they played another game that was a favourite of Dean's - Dagon's Dragons. It was set in a fantasy world, with villagers having to free the dragons from the clutches of the evil Dagon, and was also a lot of fun.

Angel seemed like he was greatly enjoying it, but Dean called it a night when he saw the other man stifling a yawn.

"We can play it again tomorrow, okay?" Dean promised when he saw the look of disappointment on Angel's face.

Once Angel had gone off to bed, and Dean was alone, he retrieved the piece of paper containing Angel's strange writing, and began scouring the internet, hoping to find a match. It didn't take long before he came across the made-up language of Enochian, and some additional research revealed that the word Angel had written was, in fact, Angel. 

Instead of feeling informed, Dean was even more confused. Why was his mysterious guest refusing to speak, and only writing in a made-up language? And did this mean that Angel was actually his name, or had he written that because Dean called him Angel? 

He could only hope that he would eventually get some answers. 

Feeling remorse at spending an entire day ignoring Colonel, and vowing to let his faithful friend roam free tomorrow, Dean set up his makeshift bed once more. He had almost fallen asleep when the unmistakable sound of Angel having another nightmare disturbed the calm of the night. Again, he went into his bedroom and found Angel in distress, and again he put his hand on the other man’s back between his wings and soothed him. 

It was awful seeing Angel like this; they’d had a good day, and other than the little problem of him flinching if Dean touched him, they had gotten along pretty nicely. Oh, and him not wanting to wash, and the not speaking… okay, maybe it was time to admit that the good parts were just masking the reality of the situation.

Dean had a strong feeling that solving the mystery would also help Angel to deal with and move past the trauma he had suffered, so he was going to do everything he could to help achieve this outcome.


	3. Chapter 3

Almost as soon as he was up the following morning - after putting the coffee machine on first, of course - Dean messaged Eileen. As he didn’t want her to get suspicious about his sudden interest in sign language, it took him a few minutes to get the message right, but eventually he was satisfied with it, and pressed send.

Tuesday, November 7, 2045 8:17 AM

**Hey Eileen. I thought it was**

**about time I learned ASL**

**properly. As you’re apparently**

**an expert I was hoping you**

**would help.**

**Dean**

The message was to the point and a little cheeky, and Dean hoped Eileen would see it as nothing more than that and respond in kind. Instead of receiving a message in reply, however, it took about twenty seconds before a call came through from Eileen. He’d hoped to avoid this, partly because Angel could come out of the bedroom at any moment and he did not want Eileen to see him, and partly because she was so good at reading people’s expressions, she would almost certainly realise immediately that he was lying. 

It was no good ignoring the call either; if Eileen thought something was wrong it was likely she would turn up at his apartment. That would be infinitely worse, so he swiped his finger across the screen and a holographic image of Eileen appeared in front of him.

"Dean," she said, "why the sudden interest in wanting to sign?" She signed as she spoke, and this was instantly translated into subtitles on the screen. "We've known each other for at least five years, and you never wanted to learn more than the basics before. And that’s okay; we communicate just fine, but I smell bullshit." Eileen was nothing if not direct.

Dean thought about arguing with her, but he knew it wasn't worth the aggravation; she would get the truth out of him anyway. Maybe Dean could present a version of the truth to throw her off the scent. 

"Okay, you got me. I, er… wanted to know how to teach someone to sign."

"You want to teach someone? Who?” Eileen had that look on her face that said ‘don’t mess with me’, and Dean felt both intimidated and impressed.

“I met this guy, but he’s having trouble communicating. I w-”

“You met a guy?” Eileen raised an eyebrow and her expression changed to one of amusement. 

“Yeah… not like that,” Dean protested, even though in reality it was actually a little like that.

Dean noticed that Eileen looked somewhat disappointed with his response. His sister-in-law had always cared about his well-being, and wanted him to be happy.

“Let me see what resources I can find, and I’ll get them over to you,” she promised, before ending the call.

Dean congratulated himself on getting the ball rolling as he tidied away his bedding and poured himself a coffee. He had no idea how long it would take for Angel to learn enough sign language to be able to tell Dean what had happened to him, but this was a start at least.

As Angel wasn’t awake yet, and the apartment was still and quiet, Dean took the opportunity to catch up on reading his emails. He was still going through them when Angel appeared about twenty minutes later, looking crumpled and still half asleep, and utterly adorable. Dean had to stop himself from crossing the room and straightening him out. Maybe in this instance it was just as well he didn’t like being touched.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean said, then felt his face colouring with embarrassment at how easily that term of endearment tumbled out of his mouth.

Angel looked at him in surprise, and a shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

Dean coughed, then quickly deflected with the words, "I'll pour you a coffee while you use the bathroom."

Angel did as Dean suggested, and once he was out of sight Dean banged his forehead lightly on the door frame. _Stop hitting on the guy,_ he reprimanded himself. 

Just as he was about to pour Angel's coffee, Dean’s door cam buzzed. _Who the hell's that?_ Dean wondered, as he took his computer out of his pocket and said ‘door cam’ into it to see who was there. _People can't just drop by without telling me first._

Clicking on the screen, Dean was horrified to see Eileen waving into the camera. _Goddammit._ Hopefully she was just dropping off some notes to help him with how to teach ASL, and didn’t actually want to come in. Failing that, if she did insist on coming into the apartment, maybe they would be lucky and Angel would stay in the bathroom until she left. It was possible it would work out that way, wasn’t it?

Dean clicked the button that allowed Eileen to enter the building, and her face disappeared from view. As he closed the screen and put the computer away again, he tried to come up with a plan for what to do if the worst happened. Panicking was the best he could come up with. 

Angel was still in the bathroom, and it would take Eileen at least a couple of minutes to get up here. If Angel came out before she arrived, he could just tell him to hide in the bedroom and keep quiet. Of course, it didn’t work out that way, and very soon Dean heard a knock on the door.

_Shit._

Opening the door, Dean plastered on his biggest smile. “Eileen, you just caught me. I’m on my way out,” he lied.

“In your pyjamas?” Eileen laughed, and breezed past him into the apartment.

Dean facepalmed and rolled his eyes, before following Eileen inside. How could he have not noticed what he was wearing? 

Eileen turned to face him once she was in the living room, asking, "So, are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

As if on cue, Angel chose that moment to leave the bathroom. Eileen's face went from surprise to shock, as did Angel's, and Dean guessed that his own expression probably looked the same. 

Angel was clearly trying to conceal his wings - they were folded tightly against his back - but even then they were impossible to hide. He was also backing away, and the longer the silence stretched out, the more he began to resemble a trapped wild animal. Dean needed to do something, fast.

"Eileen, can I talk with you in the kitchen?" he said, steering her towards the doorway. For once, she appeared to be speechless, and allowed herself to be manoeuvred into the other room. 

Dean turned to Angel then, saying, "Don't go anywhere. I'm gonna get your coffee, okay?"

Angel didn't react; his startled gaze was fixed on Eileen waiting in the kitchen, who in turn was staring right back at him.

Dean rushed back into the kitchen, finished pouring Angel's coffee, and brought it back through to him along with the sugar and a spoon. "I'm sorry, I didn't know Eileen was coming. But don't worry; it'll all be okay, I promise."

Dean wasn't sure of this at all, but he hoped his reassurance would keep Angel placated while he spoke to Eileen. Joining her in the kitchen once more, Dean made sure he was facing her so she could read his lips before speaking. “Please don’t tell Sam.”

Dean realised that Eileen had spoken at the same time, saying, "He has wings!”

“Well, I can see that,” Dean replied, with an eye roll. “Just let me explain? Please?”

Eileen’s expression was still one of shock, but nevertheless she gestured for him to continue.

“He’s not a criminal,” Dean started. “He’s been abused… Someone did this to him.”

“That’s terrible,” Eileen said, shaking her head sadly, before asking, “Who is he?” 

“I don’t know. That’s why I wanted your help with the sign language.”

Eileen nodded in understanding, so Dean continued.

“I found him in an alleyway, hurt, bleeding… I think-”

“You found him?” Eileen interrupted, gently mocking his choice of words.

“Yes, I found him.” Dean continued, undeterred. “I think he escaped from somewhere… He’s so scared, he can’t even talk. I can’t even touch him.”

_Shit, that sounded wrong._

Eileen raised an eyebrow, and gave Dean a knowing smile.

“Not like that,” Dean narrowed his eyes at her, to indicate that she was way off the mark. “I mean a pat on the shoulder, or something like that.”

Dean suddenly realised something as he spoke; he had touched Angel without him flinching, when tending his wounds and helping him to dress, or gently soothing his back when he was having a nightmare. It was the unexpected touches that caused him distress, and Dean made a mental note to tell Angel first if he was going to touch him. Or better yet… ask for permission.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but Sam can’t find out. He’ll have to report us, and that’s not fair; Angel’s the victim here.”

“Angel?” Eileen questioned. “I thought you didn’t know who he was.”

“No, I don’t. But I had to call him something, and Angel seemed right, somehow.”

“And he doesn’t mind? Even with what’s happened to him?”

That was a very good question; why was Angel not upset by the name? Dean knew very little about what Angel had suffered, but what with the wings and the Enochian, the evidence was pointing towards it being connected with angels in some way.

“Apparently not.” Dean shrugged.

“Can I speak to him?” Eileen asked then.

“Yeah, but go easy. I don’t want him running off because you’ve scared him.”

“Dean, give me some credit. I know what I’m doing.” Eileen frowned at him.

She was right of course; as the wife of a detective she had helped out in this way numerous times when necessary, with both victims and the accused. Dean had to acknowledge to himself how overprotective he was being, and he gave a wry smile.

“Sorry. Go ahead,” Dean said, putting his hand on the handle, but stopping before opening the door. “I’m pretty sure he’s not hearing impaired, by the way. He seems to understand everything I say, but for some reason he won’t speak. The only time he uses his voice is when he’s having a nightmare, and he cries out.”

Eileen looked horrified at learning this upsetting part of the story, then quickly schooled her features before saying, “Got it."

She went through to the living room after Dean opened the door, and he stayed in the kitchen, busying himself by making some pancake batter. He’d cook them once Eileen and Angel had finished their chat, and he would let Angel decide whether they would have them with fruit or bacon. Dean’s choice would be bacon - when wasn’t it? - but he would go along with whatever Angel chose.

He had just finished measuring out the flour, baking powder, superfine sugar, and salt, and was about to add the eggs when Eileen reappeared.

“I asked him if he’d be okay with me showing him how to sign, and he indicated that he would,” she explained. “If it’s okay with you?” she then added.

“Yes, more than okay. Thank you.” Dean hugged his sister-in-law. “Did you tell him who you are?”

Eileen shook her head. “I’ll leave that to you. We’ll make a start tomorrow morning… about ten?”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean agreed, before he gave Eileen another hug, then she saw herself out.

Dean went back into the living room, where Angel appeared to be waiting for him. 

"Hey. So… that was Eileen, my sister-in-law." Dean sat next to Angel and explained. "She's gonna help us," he gestured between them. "Hopefully, I'll find out who you are."

Angel gave him a sad smile that he couldn't decipher, and he wondered what the meaning behind it could be. 

_Time to change the subject._

"Do you know how to make pancakes?" Dean asked. When he got a shake of the head in reply, he held out his hand and said, "Cooking lesson number one. Pancakes."

Angel smiled and nodded, and got to his feet.

“You want fruit or bacon with them?” Dean asked. “Your choice.” 

Suddenly realising that Angel wasn’t going to answer, Dean mentally kicked himself, before asking, “Fruit?”

This question earned him an emphatic shake of the head.

“Bacon then?”

Angel nodded enthusiastically, and Dean had to stop himself from saying something he definitely shouldn’t, like, ‘You’re my kind of guy. Will you marry me?’

Dean went back to the kitchen, with Angel following closely behind. He could practically feel his breath on his neck as they walked, and it warmed Dean's heart to know that Angel was comfortable enough with him to get this close. 

Dean waved his hand dramatically towards the bowl sitting on the counter. "Here we have flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt," he said, trying to sound like one of those cooking show presenters.

Angel stared at him and tilted his head; a mannerism that Dean couldn't help but find endearing. 

"Next, we add the eggs, not-milk, and butter, which needs to be melted." 

Dean quickly measured out the butter onto a small plate, then stuck it in the microwave for a few seconds. “You wanna crack the eggs in here?” he asked, making a well in the centre of the mixture. 

Angel picked up one of the eggs and examined it closely as he turned it in his hand. After a few moments of contemplation, he cracked the shell on the side of the bowl, and dropped the contents into the mixture. He did the same with the other eggs, then Dean added the No-Moo and butter, and began to beat it all together with a whisk.

"I know it's easier with an electric mixer," Dean explained, waving the whisk at Angel, "but I like doing it by hand.” 

Angel did that intense staring thing that made breathing quite difficult all of a sudden. Dean was quite certain he wasn't as fascinating as Angel made him feel every time he spoke, and he was grateful he was able to distract himself with his pancake batter. 

Holding the bowl out to Angel, he asked, "Do you want to finish this while I get the pan ready?"

Angel took it from him hesitantly, then began to whisk the mixture as Dean got a couple of pans from the cupboard. He started to melt some more butter in one of the pans, and put a little oil in the other, ready to cook some bacon, musing on how domestic… how comfortable the two of them making breakfast together was.

Dean had had a couple of serious relationships over the years - a lovely young woman named Cassie, and a sweet man named Aaron - and he realised how much he missed moments like this. It could be all too easy to get used to it. 

Turning back to Angel as he continued preparing the batter, Dean found himself mesmerised by the way the guy's wings fluttered as he moved. They were graceful, beautiful even, and Dean wanted more than ever to touch them. Berating himself for his improper feelings, he coughed to get Angel's attention, and to cover up his thoughts too.

"That looks perfect. Good job, buddy," Dean said, relieving Angel of the bowl. "You wanna help cook 'em?"

Angel nodded, and Dean switched on the rings to heat the pans, adding a few slices of bacon to one, and pouring some rounds of batter into the other. He walked Angel through cooking the first batch of pancakes, including how to tell when they were ready to be flipped over, then handed the spatula to him.

"There you go, now you're in charge," Dean said with an encouraging grin, before leaving him to it. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Angel fussing over his task, while Dean checked on the bacon and put plates, forks, and maple syrup onto the table in the living room. The pancakes didn't all look perfect, but Dean was certain they would be delicious, and he was seriously impressed at how much effort Angel put into them. Once everything was ready, Dean placed the stack of pancakes and the bacon on another plate, and brought it through to the living room with Angel following close behind once again, holding two cups of coffee. 

They each put a few pancakes and slices of bacon onto their plates, and drizzled some maple syrup over the top. Dean took a bite, and made appreciative noises. 

"Best pancakes I ever tasted," he said between bites. It wasn't completely true, but the look on Angel's face was so happy, Dean knew he'd said the right thing.

As always, Angel ate like he was half-starved, only pausing when Dean complimented his pancakes. Dean watched fondly, only vaguely aware that he was staring. 

When the food and coffee was all finished, Angel put down his fork and stared back. His blue eyes were piercing, and… _wait._ Dean was certain his eyes had been a dull grey, but now they were practically glowing, and a stunning shade of blue. _When did that happen?_

Finding it harder than ever to look away, Dean frantically searched his mind for a distraction. He spotted Colonel 'sleeping' on his bed, and this was the opportunity he was looking for. 

"Colonel", Dean called, and the dog came to life, scampering over and wagging his tail excitedly.

Dean patted him on the head and scratched behind his ears, while Angel watched on with interest.

“You can pet him if you like; he won’t bite,” Dean chuckled. 

Angel leaned over the table and carefully touched the ‘dog’ on the head, and in return Colonel walked around the table and sat next to him. Angel tilted his head and gazed at him - as he did with everyone and everything he encountered - and Dean had a sudden realisation that the reason he stared at everything so intensely was that he was trying to re-familiarise himself with everyday things, such as eggs and robot dogs. 

This revelation felt significant somehow; that it would help him to understand Angel more, and maybe even assist with his recovery. As he watched the frankly adorable interaction between Angel and Colonel, Dean had another, equally important revelation - that Angel stared at him just as much, if not more, but this was not for the same reason at all.

Dean didn't want to read too much into what Angel's stare-a-thons might mean, but his stomach fluttered pleasantly anyway. 

He cleared the table, putting everything in the dishwasher, then stood leaning against the doorway for a moment before speaking. 

"I know it's late, but I'm gonna grab a shower. You can use it after me."

He saw Angel's face fall at the suggestion, and decided to let it slide for another day. It was nearly midday by now, plus surprisingly, Angel didn't actually smell bad, even though he probably should. 

"No?" Dean shook his head. "Okay… tomorrow. I'll check your injuries though, when I'm dressed."

Once he was under the spray, Dean found himself indulging in a little fantasy session, with his angel in the leading role. Taking his cock in his hand, he began to stroke, while conjuring a vivid image of Angel stretching out his wings and running his feathers over Dean's heated skin.

Dean's hand became Angel's, as he sped up the strokes and whispered Dean's name. His other hand travelled to his nipple, and he rubbed his thumb around it - _Yeah, right there, Angel._ _Fuck…_ Dean came, spilling over his hand as he suppressed a groan.

As Dean dried himself off, he was hit with a wave of guilt. His jerk-off session had felt so good, but how was he supposed to look Angel in the eye now, knowing what he’d just done. It had been all kinds of wrong, but Dean was just going to have to get over it, or Angel would know that something was up.

Dean slipped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, and dressed quickly, then went back to the living room. Of course Angel was still seated where Dean had left him, but he had an almost contented look on his face as he played with Colonel.

_Awesome_ , Dean thought to himself, fighting to push the images that were coming into his mind back down, as Angel’s hand moved smoothly over Colonel’s head. This wasn’t helping at all.

“Mind if I take a look at your injuries?” Dean asked, immediately regretting that question, as it meant he was now going to have to get closer to Angel.

_Oh well, might as well increase the awkwardness._

Angel looked up and nodded, and as Dean came over to sit next to him he held out his arm for him to examine. 

Resisting the urge to touch his hand, Dean instead asked, "How's it feeling now?"

Angel responded by moving his arm around, wiggling his fingers, and clenching and unclenching his fist.

"Looking good," Dean said, enthusiastically. "I think we should leave the cast on today, but it can probably come off tomorrow."

Angel smiled at this, and Dean couldn't help smiling back. He gently lifted his hand to Angel's chin, and with the lightest of touches, turned Angel's head. The graze was completely gone, but it drew his attention to how much stubble the guy had. Unless he was intending to grow a beard, he badly needed a shave.

"Nice peach fuzz," Dean remarked. "But you could do with a shave. I'll get you a razor."

Dean's words seemed about as welcome as a fart in an elevator. Yet again he appeared to have found something that scared Angel, as his eyes widened in fear.

_Fuck it._

"We can leave it for now, okay?" Dean said apologetically. "Tomorrow's good."

He felt the tension start to dissolve from Angel's body, and his eyes shone brightly once again. There was no question that they had changed colour, and yet again he could swear they were glowing… Was it a trick of the light, or something more?

"I should check your leg," Dean said, trying to distract himself from Angel's strikingly blue eyes.

Angel reached down and pulled up the leg of his pants, until the bandage was fully revealed. Dean unwound it, and wasn't surprised at all to see that the cut was completely healed. At this rate of healing, maybe leaving the stitches in any longer would be a bad idea; Dean was concerned that this would make removing them more difficult. 

"I could take the stitches out now, if you want," Dean offered, getting a nod in reply. 

He got a sterile wipe from his first aid supplies, then picked up a small pair of scissors, which he scalded with boiling water. Despite the fact that the wound appeared to be healed, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Hoping that it wouldn't hurt as much as it had when he put the stitches in, Dean sat on the floor in front of him, snipped each stitch with the scissors, then pulled them out as quickly as he could. The worry that they might not come out was thankfully unfounded, and it was all done within a couple of minutes.

Dean had no doubt that it had caused Angel pain; the way he had tensed and let out little whimpers told him as much. But, as had been the case when Dean had first tended the wounds, he was clearly controlling himself. 

Every instinct Dean had was telling him to comfort Angel with a reassuring touch, but he held back, not wanting to add to the distress. He could offer soothing words though. "It'll soon be over," he said. "It should only sting for a second or two."

Dean gently cleaned what was left of the wound with the wipe, then disposed of that and what was left of the stitches, while Angel sat still for a minute or two.

Dean came back into the living room, to find Angel engrossed in playing with Colonel again. Deciding not to disturb them, he picked up his guitar, opened his computer notebook, and began plucking at the strings. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean noticed Angel's attention drift to him, and his music. Dean liked the idea that Angel enjoyed listening to him play, and he smiled to himself.

They passed the rest of the afternoon like that; Dean working on his song, interrupted by grabbing the occasional cup of coffee as Angel sat with Colonel, listening to the music, and occasionally tapping his fingers or his foot. 

As dusk began to fall, Angel walked over to the window and looked out at the world below. The street lights had come on, and as they shone through the glass they illuminated the darkening apartment, creating an almost ethereal glow. Dean was enraptured as Angel became bathed in light, creating what looked like a halo around his head. 

_Beautiful._

  
_Is he actually an angel?_ Dean wondered for about the thousandth time, as the light danced off Angel's wings, giving those white feathers that bluish sheen again.

Dean didn't even realise that he'd stopped playing, until Angel turned to look at him, with a quizzical expression. Feeling flustered at being caught out this way, Dean covered up his staring by announcing that he was finished working for the day.

Normally he would have carried on for another half an hour or so, but he could cut it short for once. It's not like he was working toward a deadline.

Like the previous day, Dean set Angel up with another game on the screen - this one involved fighting aliens - and he set about making dinner. Cooking together earlier had been fun, but Dean wasn't sure if he could handle spending time in such close quarters with the guy twice in one day. There was only so much sexual tension he could take.

When it was ready, Dean brought the food through to the living room, and they sat and ate in a comfortable silence. Of course, Angel was always silent, but Dean was too, for once. While preparing the food, he had come to the decision that he would learn sign language along with Angel. He knew the basics, but that was no longer enough. Learning more would not only enable him to communicate with Angel - that was the hope, anyway - it would also demonstrate to Eileen how much he appreciated her.

The rest of the evening was much like the previous day. They sat on the sofa and played video games, until they were both yawning. It was curious, but Dean could have sworn that Angel was sitting closer. They weren't quite touching, but when Angel petted Colonel's head - he was now sitting between them - the back of his hand would pass tantalisingly close to Dean's arm. 

Dean had no idea if this was deliberate or not, but he found he kind of liked the delicious torture of being so close, and yet so far.

Angel went to bed reluctantly, after Dean pointed out that they were both falling asleep, and that Eileen would be coming in the morning. Dean knew that he was going to have to get Angel in the shower somehow, and he needed to get him some clothes of his own, too. Of course they would have to be altered to allow for Angel's wings, but he'd had a thought about that. Tomorrow he would give his good friend Benny a call, and hopefully they would get the clothes thing sorted out.

As with the first two nights, Angel cried out in the night, caught in the throes of a nightmare. Dean soothed him in the way that was now becoming familiar, until he fell back to sleep, but Dean was happy to see that the nightmare wasn’t causing Angel as much distress as the previous ones appeared to have done.

They seemed to be taking small steps in the right direction, and this realisation calmed Dean enough for him to drift off again, much sooner than he would have expected.


	4. Chapter 4

When Dean awoke just after 8:30, he went to the kitchen and put the coffee machine on, lamenting not for the first time that he hadn’t activated the timer function. Being able to roll out of bed with a hot cup of coffee waiting would be awesome. Not that he was sleeping in a bed; the cushions and blankets were no substitute for his memory foam. 

Dean lifted his arms above his head and stretched his back. _Damn,_ he couldn't see an immediate solution to the current sleeping arrangements, but he wasn't sure how much longer it would be before his back started really protesting. 

He tidied away the makeshift bed and the covers, ready to put in the bedroom once Angel was in the shower. He was going to insist on that today, before the guy started to smell offensive. It might take some coaxing, but Dean was determined. 

Almost as if Angel knew that Dean was thinking about him, the bedroom door opened, and he stood in the doorway, yawning. 

"Morning, Angel. Coffee's brewing." Dean gestured in the direction of the kitchen. "But first, a shower."

Dean watched Angel's expression go from a smile at the sight of Dean, to one of fear at the mention of a shower. _Time for affirmative action,_ Dean thought, as an idea struck him.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, sincerely. 

Angel nodded his head without hesitating, and Dean was grateful for that.

"Good, because I would never do anything to hurt you."

Dean held his hand out to Angel, who took it gingerly, then Dean led them to the bathroom.

Suddenly remembering the cast on Angel’s arm, Dean pointed at it, saying, “I’m just gonna get something to cut this off. You can use the john while I’m gone.”

He went off to the kitchen and found the scissors, waiting a few seconds to give Angel time to finish his business, and when he got back he carefully cut through the plastic and removed it. 

Angel examined his arm, and from the way he was able to move it, it was perfectly healed. 

"Nice one," Dean said with a smile. “Okay, first you need to shave that scruff.”

Thankfully, the electric razor he had pretty much meant zero chance of injury. He took it out of the cabinet and handed it to Angel, who looked it over closely before bringing it to his chin. 

“It’s perfectly safe,” Dean said, gesturing for him to go ahead.

Angel switched it on, and flinched a little, before getting to work on his stubble. Dean waited patiently as Angel shaved, and a few minutes later he was clean shaven, and even hotter than before. _Good lord_.

_Bad time to think about that,_ Dean told himself, as he turned the shower on, and let the water heat up. "Now I'm gonna show you that there's nothing to be scared of. I'll get in the shower with you, but I'm gonna keep all my clothes on, okay?"

Angel stood staring at the water, as if willing it to disappear, and Dean wasn't even sure if he'd registered him saying that he would keep his clothes on. He stepped in front of Angel, and made sure to get his attention.

"I'll keep my clothes on, but I think you should take yours off, 'k?"

Angel blinked at him, then slowly began to remove his pants, sliding them down and off his legs.

_Don't think about his naked body,_ Dean thought, turning away to check the water. The temperature was perfect. When he looked back Angel had taken off his socks, and was about to pull off the boxers.

"You can leave them on if you want," Dean suggested, “if you’d feel more comfortable.”

That wasn't the only reason for Dean's suggestion; he was already having way too many inappropriate thoughts about Angel. He didn't need to see him naked, and make it even worse. Getting a boner would not help the situation at all. 

Dean felt immense relief when Angel stopped trying to remove his boxers, and he would make sure that Angel got a good wash in that area, even though he was still wearing them.

Reaching for the hem of Angel’s t-shirt, Dean pulled it up and over his head and wings, then put it and the other clothes into the laundry basket in the corner.

“I promise this isn’t going to hurt,” Dean said in his most soothing voice, as he took Angel’s hand and tugged him into the shower and stood them both under the spray, facing each other. 

The water was barely hitting Angel's chest, but he was tense; Dean could feel it even though they weren’t touching. To demonstrate how not-scary the water was, Dean put his head underneath it, and let it run over his hair and down his face. When he wiped the water from his eyes, Angel was breathing heavily and staring at him intensely; eyes widened with curiosity, or… something else?

The way Angel's eyes bore into him was extremely distracting, and Dean's mouth suddenly became very dry. He swallowed thickly, before waving his hand at the water and saying, "Go on, it's fine."

Angel dipped his head forward, and Dean had to step back a little to give him more room. Angel closed his eyes as he let the water run over his hair and body - just as Dean had done - and… _ohhhhh,_ _dear lord._

No wonder Angel had been staring at him. The sight of this ridiculously attractive man, with water cascading over his almost naked form, was hot as fuck. Thank goodness Dean was clothed, and his unwanted reaction was concealed.

Also, did this mean that Angel was looking at him in the same manner? Dean didn't want to think about that possibility too much; after all, they had only known each other for a few days, and Angel was depending on him to be strong and in control.

_Focus._

Dean handed Angel the shampoo, saying, “Here, put some on your hair.”

Angel blinked the water out of his eyes, and peered at the bottle for a moment, then flipped the top, poured some into his hand, and rubbed it into his hair. The lather this created atop Angel’s head looked adorable, and Dean really wanted to be playful and shape it into a mohawk, or something equally as unlikely. But… no, this experience needed to be as calming and ‘ordinary’ as possible.

“Now rinse it off,” Dean prompted, wondering why Angel seemed so reluctant to do even the most simple things without being instructed.

Angel did as Dean suggested - Dean did his best not to stare - then when the shampoo was all rinsed away, Dean passed Angel the body wash. 

“This is for your body,” he said, watching as Angel looked closely at the bottle before opening it and pouring some on his hands. 

Angel put it on his chest, neck, and arms, then rubbed it in and rinsed it away, then repeated the action with his legs and feet, and his groin. Dean noticed Angel reaching into his boxers and averted his gaze, giving him a moment of privacy before turning back to find him finished. It seemed he wasn’t going to even try washing his back or wings though, and Dean realised he was going to have to take control.

“Hey, you missed a spot,” he said, placing his hands on Angel’s shoulders and turning him around.

Angel froze as the water hit his back and wings, and cascaded over the feathers. Dean didn’t feel entirely comfortable doing this - he knew that Angel didn’t like being touched without warning - but it was clearly the only way this area of Angel’s body was going to get clean. Prolonging this any further would surely make it even more of an ordeal.

“It’s okay,” Dean uttered gently, his voice almost a whisper. “It’s just water.”

Taking up the washcloth he hadn’t yet given to Angel, Dean put some of the body wash on it, then proceeded to wash the wings as quickly, but thoroughly, as possible. Angel made a kind of whimpering sound, and Dean could feel him trembling; he’d forgotten how sensitive Angel’s wings obviously were.

“Sorry, man, almost done,” Dean said, transferring the washcloth to Angel’s back and washing the poor abused skin there as carefully as he could. He hoped that Angel would do this for himself next time, but that wasn’t likely if he continued to find the whole experience so traumatic.

Dean reached over and changed the setting for the shower, turning the flow of the water into a relaxing pulse. Of course this meant rinsing away any lingering body wash would take longer, but it felt much gentler on the skin.

The effect was almost immediate; Angel seemed a lot calmer, and Dean regretted not using that setting sooner. He had gone for speed rather than comfort, but he would remember this for next time.

When he was satisfied that Angel was properly washed, and that all the body wash and shampoo was gone, Dean switched the shower off, and grabbed a towel for Angel. It wouldn’t be much use to Dean, as he was going to have to strip off these soaking wet clothes once Angel was out of the bathroom, and grab a quick wash for himself.

“If you wrap yourself in the towel, you can take your underwear off and throw it in there,” Dean pointed at the laundry basket. “There are clean boxers and pants in the drawers in the bedroom, and I’ll fix you up with a shirt when I’m finished in here.”

Angel tilted his head and gazed at him as if trying to decipher what he meant, before doing as Dean suggested. He turned away from Dean when he reached under the towel to remove his boxer shorts, while Dean hoped that he would be left alone in the bathroom soon, so that he could remove the wet clothes from his own body. 

Thankfully, Angel left the bathroom immediately, and Dean peeled the sodden fabric from his skin and got straight back under the shower. He changed it back to its usual setting, in order to quickly get rid of the unpleasant feeling the clothes had left him with.

A couple of minutes later Dean was warmed up again, and washed all over - no time to act on the feelings Angel had stirred in him - and he dried himself off, then went out into the living room, and through to the bedroom. He was relieved to see Angel sitting on the sofa as he went through, which meant he could avoid any possible awkwardness as he got dressed.

Once he was fully clothed, Dean found another old t-shirt for Angel, and he brought it through to the living room and held it up, asking, “Will this do?”

Angel’s eyes lit up at the sight of the shirt, with its image of the main dragon from Dagon’s Dragons, and he smiled happily. Dean went back to the bathroom, picked up the scissors, and cut two slits into the back, just as he’d done with the other shirt, then he brought it to Angel and helped him put it on. He didn’t flinch as much when Dean touched his wings, but he did make a noise in his throat that Dean couldn’t quite identify. 

No time to think about that either, Dean thought, as he went back to the bathroom once more, picked the wet clothes from the floor and brought them through to the tiny utility room. He stuck them straight into the washing machine, then went back and got the rest of the laundry, added that to the machine also, along with the laundry detergent, then switched it on.

Looking at the clock, Dean was startled to see that it was already almost nine thirty… there was no time for a cooked breakfast either. Dean knew just what to make though, and he went into the kitchen, grabbed what he needed and got to work. When it was ready, he brought the plates into the living room, then went back for the coffee.

“Eileen’s gonna be here in about fifteen minutes. We’re gonna have to eat quickly.” Dean sat down at the table, and Angel crossed the room to join him.

“PB and J,” Dean explained, picking up one half of his sandwich and taking a bite. 

Angel picked half of his sandwich up too, and examined it carefully before bringing it to his mouth. Dean watched expectantly as he bit into it and his eyes widened in surprise.

Dean swallowed his mouthful and laughed, as Angel devoured his sandwich like he was a starving dog. “Good, huh?”

Angel nodded, his cheeks slightly puffed out with the amount of food in his mouth. Dean took a sip of his coffee, then ate the rest of his food contentedly. This was definitely a good choice.

As soon as they’d finished they cleared the table, then Angel went back over to the sofa. Dean cast his gaze around the room to check that it was fit for Eileen’s visit. It was acceptable, he decided, but he would need to give the place a good cleaning later. The water stain on the sofa still needed fixing, and he knew without checking that the bathroom was a disaster.

Before he had too much time to worry about how clean - or not - the apartment was, the door cam buzzed, letting Dean know that Eileen had arrived. He clicked the button to let her in through the main doors, then put on a fresh pot of coffee. When she got up to the apartment, she greeted Dean with a hug, and Angel got a friendly ‘hello‘.

“Hi, Eileen,” Dean said once she’d released him. “I wanna learn too, if that’s okay?”

Eileen’s eyes widened in surprise, but she smiled and nodded at his request. “I would be happy to teach you too, Dean.”

She sat down next to Angel, and turned to look directly at him. “Hello, Angel,” she said, signing as she spoke. “I won’t speak once we start the lesson. It’s a better way for you to learn.”

Angel nodded in understanding. 

“We’re going to start with the alphabet, then we will learn some basic words.”

“We’ll be experts before you know it,” Dean said, teasingly.

Eileen didn’t look convinced by that assertion, but she smiled anyway, as Dean fetched three mugs of coffee. She took a sheet of paper containing the signs for the alphabet from her bag, and then the lesson began.

Dean already knew this part, but to encourage Angel, and out of respect for Eileen, he participated eagerly, as if he’d never seen it before. They quickly discovered that Angel was a fast learner, and after going over the letters a few times, he was able to sign each one at random, with barely a misstep.

Eileen then demonstrated how to ask ’what is your name’ and ‘how are you’, then finger spelled her name. Dean did the same; despite having a name sign that Eileen had given him a couple of years into her relationship with Sam. He understood how much of an honour it was to have a name chosen for him, and he cherished it. Eventually he would show it to Angel, but not yet; not until he was able to explain its significance.

Angel also finger spelled his name, and just as when Dean asked him to write his name, his answer was ‘Angel’. Dean was starting to wonder if the guy didn’t actually know what his real name was. Maybe he should ask him outright if he remembered who he was, but he probably shouldn’t while Eileen was here. He had a feeling that question might provoke an unhappy reaction.

The final sign Eileen showed them was ‘hello’, then she took her leave, saying, “I’ll leave this sheet here. It will be a good way to memorise the letters until you’ve mastered them.”

“You got it. And thanks, Eileen, for being so understanding,” Dean said, hugging her goodbye. He saw her out, then returned to the living room to find Angel practising the signs.

He looked up at Dean, and signed ‘hello, Dean’, smiling happily at his achievement.

Dean’s stomach - or was it his heart - did a kind of flip flop at the gesture. It was only a greeting, and yet it meant so much more to him.

Dean signed ‘hello, Angel’ back, then said, “Time for lunch. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Angel followed him into the kitchen, and Dean had a sudden thought. Turning to Angel, he asked, “Is there anything you’d like to eat? Something you really like?”

Angel stared at him for a few moments, obviously thinking about the question, and how he might be able to answer. Finally, he opened the fridge and took out the eggs and bacon, and reached for a pan from the cupboard.

It looked like he was intending to cook it himself, but Dean took a step back anyway, and said “help yourself,” by way of a little extra encouragement. 

He was amazed at how far Angel had come in just a few short days, and how comfortable he obviously felt with Dean. It was kind of awesome.

Dean realised that this was the perfect opportunity to call up Benny with his request, so he went back to the bedroom and left Angel to it, shutting the door behind him before sitting on the bed. He thought that it might alarm Angel if he knew Dean was discussing him with someone else. 

He pulled up Benny’s number and pressed the call button. It would be nice to speak to his friend again; he just hoped Benny didn’t mind that it was a request for a favour. After a couple of rings, Benny’s face appeared on the screen, and Dean smiled and gave a friendly wave. 

“Hey, Benny. How are ya?” Dean greeted him.

“Hi, Dean. I’m doing good, and you?”

“Good, good… yeah. I’ve got a situation going on, and I could do with your help.”

“A situation? You getting yourself into trouble, Dean?” Benny frowned at him through the screen.

“No, nothing like that,” Dean shook his head, hoping that he wasn’t in fact getting into trouble.

“So, what’s up?” Benny asked with a smile.

Dean had thought about how much information to give Benny, and he'd decided that he should tell him the whole story. After all, he knew he could trust him; he'd proved that on more than one occasion.

"I've met this guy," Dean started, "and it’s him who’s in trouble." It didn't escape Dean's notice that Benny didn't so much as bat an eyelid at Dean's declaration that he'd met a man, and that he'd made it sound like there was something going on between them. Benny really was good people. 

Dean continued, "I think he's escaped from somewhere… somewhere he was abused real bad."

"Poor guy," Benny said, shaking his head sadly. "How can I help?"

"Well, one of the things… he's…" Dean found himself hesitating when it came to saying the actual word. "He has wings."

He stared at Benny's face, waiting for a reaction, but all he got was a raised eyebrow and a nod of the head. He was obviously waiting for the full explanation.

"Whoever was holding him captive surgically attached the wings to his back. I don't know if it's permanent, or if they can be removed, but he needs some clothes that he can put on comfortably. At the moment he's wearing an old t-shirt of mine, with holes cut into it. It's not ideal, to be honest, so I was wondering if you could alter some shirts for him."

Benny huffed a laugh, and grinned. "I gotta say, brother, I thought you were gonna ask me to hide him. This will be much easier, so sure… count me in."

"Thanks, man, you're a great guy. Don't let anyone tell you any different, 'k?" he joked.

"As if I would," Benny quipped back, shooting Dean a look of pretend menace. "I'll need to meet… what's his name?"

"I don't know his name. I call him Angel."

“Sounds very romantic.” Benny blew Dean a kiss, and winked, and Dean could feel his face colouring.

“I’m not gonna say it’s not like that, because I… kinda wish it was.” Dean wouldn’t admit this to anyone else, but with Benny he knew he didn’t need to hide anything. “But that’s not why I call him Angel; it’s because he has wings, and I don’t think he remembers his real name.”

“You don’t think he…?” Benny peered at him now, curiosity definitely piqued.

“He won’t speak, except for when he’s having a nightmare. It’s gotta be because of what they did to him. And the memory thing, too. I’ve got Eileen teaching him sign language, and hopefully being able to communicate, and some TLC, will help him to heal.”

“Man, that’s messed up. Now I know why you described it as ‘a situation’.” Benny shot him a sympathetic look.

“Right?” Describing the predicament regarding Angel was a sure way to make Dean reflect on it more, and he shook his head solemnly. “He’s gotten better already though, after only three days. Just being away from wherever he was, is helping him.”

“You’re a great guy,” Benny said, echoing Dean’s words. “I think Angel’s gonna be safe with you.”

“Yeah. I just wish I could tell Sam.”

“Sam doesn’t know?” For the first time since the conversation started, Benny looked shocked.

“I don’t want to put him in a position where he has to lie. It could make things awkward for his job.”

“Damn, that’s rough. I hope you find a way you can tell him, especially since Eileen already knows.”

Benny’s observation was nothing Dean hadn’t already agonised over, but it still pained him to hear it said out loud. “Me too… me too,” he said, before winding the conversation back. “I’m gonna get Angel to pick out some clothes after we’ve eaten, and they should be here tomorrow morning. So… how’s the afternoon looking for you?”

Benny typed into his keyboard and read something on another area of the screen, then looked back up at Dean. “I can come by at about four?”

“That’s great, and thanks again, man. See you tomorrow.”

“It’s nothing.” Benny waved away Dean’s thanks, then ended the call before Dean could embarrass him any further.

Dean smiled at the blank screen, then went back through to the kitchen to see how Angel was getting on. It seemed he’d timed it perfectly, as Angel was just putting the food on the plates. It was nothing extraordinary; just bacon and eggs, but the look of pleasure on Angel’s face as he glanced up at Dean and smiled was breathtaking.

“Oh man, this looks good.” Dean picked up the plates and brought them into the living room, sniffing the air deliberately, to show Angel how delicious the food smelled. 

“Can’t wait to try this,” he said, taking his seat as Angel sat opposite him, and handed Dean a knife and fork.

Angel watched Dean closely as he put some bacon and egg on his fork and brought it to his mouth. He wasn’t touching his food yet; instead he was waiting for Dean’s reaction.

Dean put the food into his mouth, closing his eyes as he savoured the taste. It really was good, and when he opened his eyes again he smiled at Angel and gave him a thumbs up. “Delicious,” he said, making the sign for the word as he spoke. In that moment he was glad that he’d taken the time to learn some ASL when he’d first met Eileen.

On the other side of the table, Angel was staring at Dean with his mouth agape. He hadn’t moved to touch his food since Dean started eating, and as the staring went on, Dean began to wonder if it had anything at all to do with his reaction to the food. His eyes flicked down to Dean’s mouth at least once, and suddenly Dean wasn’t sure what he should do. 

What he wanted to do was forget about the food, take Angel into his arms, and give him a thorough demonstration of how much he desired him. But he couldn’t do that… Angel was so vulnerable, and Dean couldn’t be sure that if Angel went with it, it would be for the right reason. Consent was too important to Dean to brush aside so recklessly, so no… it was way too soon for anything like that. 

Dean would store this feeling away for later, when he was alone - as he’d already begun doing on a regular basis - and right now he needed to break this tension that had built between them. He picked up an excessively large forkful of food, and shovelled it into his mouth, as inelegantly as possible. Hopefully being gross while he was eating would stop Angel from staring at him so intently.

“You gonna eat yours?” Dean asked, pointing at Angel’s plate with his fork, mouth still full of food, and that seemed to do the trick.

Angel looked away to concentrate on his own food, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he would be able to resist though, and being in such close proximity to each other all the time wasn’t helping matters.

They ate the rest of the meal in comfortable silence, and once it was finished and Dean had cleared the table - Angel tried to do it, but Dean insisted - Dean switched his screen on, and pulled up the shopping page he wanted, with the command ‘clothes… men’. 

“I thought it was about time you got your own clothes,” he explained. "Mine don’t fit you too well, and I'm sure you would prefer your own style anyway.”

Dean was sure he was babbling, but Angel was staring at him again, and this time he didn’t look too pleased. He finger spelled ‘no’, before Dean put out his hand to stop him.

“I know you’re probably worrying about how you’re gonna pay for them, but don’t. I can afford it, so just go ahead and choose some things, okay?”

Angel didn’t seem convinced, but he started scrolling through the clothes anyway, using the remote control Dean handed him. Each time he paused on an item, Dean put it in the basket. There was no need to measure the guy, because Dean had spent more time than he probably should have looking at him, and his body.

After a few minutes Dean realised that Angel hadn't chosen any shirts, and he was pretty sure he knew why. Gently taking the remote control from him, he started to explain about Benny, in a way that hopefully wouldn’t cause Angel concern. 

“It’s okay, you can pick out some shirts, too. I know you’re bothered about me having to ruin them when they’re brand new, but my friend Benny will fix them up. He’s…”

Dean stopped talking for a moment when Angel’s expression told him he wasn’t too pleased at the idea of Dean getting another friend of his involved in his plight. He’d accepted Eileen, but maybe he thought telling a second person was just too much. It would all be fine once Dean explained.

“Benny is really a good guy… the best. I told him about you, and your wings, and he won’t say anything to anyone. You can trust him, and if you can’t do that… trust me.”

Angel studied Dean for a few seconds, before nodding, and signing ‘okay’, as he visibly calmed down. 

“Benny’s my oldest friend, and damn good with a needle. He’s gonna come by tomorrow, and when he’s finished, the shirts will look just fine. So go ahead and choose. Okay?” He handed the remote control back to Angel, and watched as he found some plain t-shirts and a couple of button-down shirts.

By the time he was done, Angel had a decent sized wardrobe picked out; the shirts and flannels he'd picked out, three pairs of slacks and one pair of jeans, two pairs of pyjamas, and enough underwear and socks to last him a few weeks. Dean also insisted he get some shoes, too, and a pair of slippers. This was slightly more complicated than it was with the clothes, as the sizing had to be more accurate, but Dean used his trusty tape measure to work out Angel’s shoe size. He could have used his computer to gauge this, but there was something more human… more caring… about using an old-fashioned way of measuring. Plus, it gave Dean a few moments of closeness with Angel, without it being sexually charged. 

When the order had gone through - plus another food order - Dean activated Colonel, then took up his guitar and began to play. He watched as Angel sat with Colonel while he plucked at the strings, and it struck him that they had already fallen into a routine; this was more or less exactly what they had done yesterday. 

As the afternoon crawled by, the light and colours changed in the apartment again, and the only sound was the strumming of the guitar. Dean had to admit to himself that he really liked this; it was peaceful and relaxing, and he was almost reluctant to turn on the light when it got too dark to see.

Was it wrong to enjoy this so much?

Angel blinked at the sudden brightness of the light, and Dean apologised. “Sorry it’s so harsh, but I couldn’t see anymore.”

Angel nodded, and patted Colonel on the head, in a comforting manner, as if the dog didn’t like the light either. It was utterly captivating, and Dean wished there was some way to keep hold of the image forever. 

Dean played for a little while longer, and there were moments when he swore that he could hear Angel humming along with the music. Knowing that Angel liked the tune he'd written made him happier than he could say. Hopefully he would like the lyrics too, when Dean added them.

Eventually, Dean put his guitar away and made dinner, then once they'd eaten and tidied up, they played video games again. Angel had gotten pretty good at Dagon's Dragons, and Dean watched on impressed, as he kicked Dagon's ass.

Dean could have easily stayed up half the night just doing this, and he got the impression that Angel could, too. But they needed rest; plus, falling asleep on each other on the sofa wouldn't help his resolve at all. 

He waited until Angel had completed a level, then with a yawn, suggested that they should get some sleep. “Busy day tomorrow; time for bed.”

Angel nodded and saved the game, then went to the bathroom before disappearing into the bedroom. Dean really wished he could join him in there, and it wasn’t just because he missed his mattress.


	5. Chapter 5

When the morning light started peeking in through the window, Dean was already awake. He’d had a pretty good night’s sleep - even the now-expected nightmare from Angel hadn’t disturbed him for much more than ten minutes - but he’d woken up from an extremely vivid dream involving Angel, and now he had a raging boner.

Needing to take care of it before Angel awoke, he slipped his hand under the covers and into his pyjama pants. Palming his hard on, he began stroking, both fearing, and almost hoping, that Angel would come through the door and catch him. That thought alone got him hurtling towards his orgasm in a shorter time than it would normally take, and within a couple of minutes he was spilling over his hand. 

Dean murmured the word ‘Angel’ barely audibly as he came, breathless and heaving, and he lay catching his breath until he felt ready to move. It wasn’t as good as having sex with a real partner, but he felt sated, and when he jumped in the shower right away, his skin tingled pleasantly.

By the time Angel showed his face in the kitchen, Dean was dressed and making coffee. Angel signed ‘hello’, accepted the offered cup, and took a sip.

“Mornin’, Angel.” Dean tried to conceal his smile at the sight of the sleep-rumpled guy, but he wasn’t quite able to hide it. He was just too adorable, and Dean really wanted to run his fingers through those locks, and…

_Nope,_ _not gonna think about that._

Dean coughed. “Do you think you’d be okay taking a shower on your own?”

Angel’s face fell, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he was still anxious, or if it was because he wanted Dean in there with him for a very different reason. He nodded and spelled out ‘yes’ with his fingers, nevertheless, and made straight for the bathroom, while Dean got on with making them some breakfast.

He was going to focus on preparing the food, and not think about the fact that Angel was in the shower, with water running over his naked bod… _Whoa._ _Get your mind out of the gutter._

Dean grabbed what he needed to make PB and J’s for them both, humming as he worked, to distract him from any further unangelic thoughts. When they were ready Angel was still in the bathroom, so he used those few minutes to clean the living room. He decided to leave the bedroom alone for the moment; he didn’t want to be in the middle of cleaning it when Angel walked in.

He activated the robot vacuum and cleaned the surfaces as it went around the room, and had just put it away when Angel slipped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Once he was mostly dressed, he came back into the living room with the shirt in his hand and handed it to Dean, then turned around. Dean would never get over the sight of those wings, but now he found himself admiring Angel’s back, and his arms. _Thank god Angel can’t see the way I’m looking at him,_ Dean thought, as he pulled the shirt over the other man’s head and helped the wings through the slits. 

Angel turned back to him and smiled shyly, then his face lit up with delight as he spotted the PB and J that was waiting for him in the kitchen. _He’s certainly got his priorities right,_ Dean thought with a chuckle, as he brought the sandwiches through to the living room, and they sat down to eat. As always, Angel ate hungrily, although Dean noticed that he did seem to be trying hard to slow down somewhat with his eating, and he smiled to himself as he started on his own food.

Eileen arrived soon afterwards, and they went over the signs she’d shown them in their first lesson, before she taught them some more. They learned words like ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘okay’, ‘goodbye’, ‘cat’, ‘dog’, and the numbers one to ten, repeating them over and over, and in different orders. 

Eileen then produced a sheet of paper and a pen, asking Angel, “Are there any specific words you want me to teach you? Words that would help you communicate with Dean while you’re living here?” 

She slid the paper over to Angel, but he made no attempt to pick up the pen. Instead, he shrunk back into the seat, as if he was afraid. Strangely, his reaction this time was even stronger than when Dean had asked him to write his name. Maybe it was because Eileen had asked him, rather than Dean, or maybe it was because she’d asked him for more than just his name. Whatever the reason, it was painful to see him in such distress.

After an excruciating few seconds, Dean offered Eileen a coffee, saying, “Coffee? That’s an important word. You should teach us that.” He nodded emphatically, before darting off to the kitchen to pour coffee, and wonder what the fuck had been done to Angel that something as simple as writing could trigger him. 

Dean wished he knew what the problem was and how to fix it, and he sighed unhappily as he poured the drinks. The change in Angel since Dean had found him in that alleyway was remarkable; Dean could only hope that this incident wouldn’t cause him to go backwards.

Steeling himself for what he might find when he returned to the living room, Dean was relieved to see that the paper and pen were gone, and Angel and Eileen were going back over the words from yesterday. They both looked up and smiled at Dean, taking the coffees gratefully, although he could see in her eyes that Eileen was deeply concerned. He would have to talk to her about Angel’s behaviour in private later.

“I thought of some words that would be useful.” Dean sat down again, and faced Eileen. “Coffee, obviously. And also food, shower, clothes…”

Eileen nodded in agreement, and demonstrated the signs for them. They practiced a few times, then she left with a hug, as she whispered in Dean’s ear,

“We need to try and find out what they did to him, and who did it. I’ll fucking kill them.”

Eileen’s placid demeanour was rarely this rattled, but when she was riled, she was a force to be reckoned with. Dean understood exactly why Sam loved her so much.

He patted her on the back, and when she let go of him, he told her, “I’m gonna make that fucker regret his life choices when I get my hands on him.”

He meant it, too; he’d never wanted to hurt someone as much as he did the person who’d caused Angel such suffering.

After Eileen had gone, with a promise to return tomorrow, Dean checked and discovered that his orders were in the collection hatch. He put the food on the kitchen counter, then brought Angel’s new clothes to him. Angel looked through the boxes, picking the items up and examining them, before doing the same with the next one. 

Eventually Dean got fed up with waiting, asking, “You gonna try them on? You won’t know if they fit unless you do.”

Angel was holding up a plain black t-shirt, and he frowned at it, obviously wondering how the hell he was supposed to put that on before it had been altered.

“Not the shirts. Not yet, anyway.” Dean gestured to the boxes. “The pants, and shoes, though; why don’t you try them on?”

Angel signed ‘yes’, then took out the jeans and shoes and disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Dean waiting for the fashion show. A few minutes later he reappeared, and… _holy fucking shit…_ did he look hot. The jeans fit perfectly, and he stood holding his arms out by his sides as if to say ‘how do I look’. 

Dean’s own jeans suddenly became tighter around the crotch area, and he shifted in his seat to relieve the unexpected reaction. He nodded, hoping that he wasn’t staring like some kind of sex-starved pervert, and pressed the heel of his hand into his groin. 

Thankfully, Angel didn’t seem to notice; or if he did, it didn’t bother him, and he gathered up the rest of the clothes - shirts excepted - and spent the next few minutes trying them on, too. Dean was very grateful that none of them were as figure-hugging as the jeans, and he was able to calm himself down before standing up again.

Dean decided it was time for lunch, and he wondered if he could encourage Angel to make something again. Or, maybe they could even make something together. 

“You wanna help me make some food?” Dean asked, signing the word ‘food’, before heading towards the kitchen.

Angel signed ‘yes’, and followed Dean into the kitchen. Dean washed his hands, then took the ground beef out of the fridge while Angel followed suit and washed his hands also.

“How are you with a knife? You any good at chopping onions?” he inquired, as he took out one of the vegetables in question.

By way of reply, Angel got a sharp knife from the block, flipped it a few times in his hand expertly, then began to chop the onion with ease. Dean watched on, impressed by the display, until he realised he should be doing his part as well.

He got out a baking sheet for later, as well as a large bowl which he placed the ground beef in, along with some seasonings. Adding the onion once Angel had finished chopping it, he then asked,

“Where did you learn to do that? Are you a chef or something?” Dean stuck his hands into the bowl to thoroughly mix the ingredients.

Angel stared at him, then slowly shrugged his shoulders.

“You don’t know?” This was suddenly the closest they had gotten to the question of whether Angel knew who he was, and now that they had broached the subject, Dean needed confirmation.

He took his hands out of the mixture and washed them again, then turned to face Angel. “Angel’s not your real name, is it?” he started.

‘No’, signed Angel, shaking his head.

“Do you know what your name is?”

‘No’.

_Fuck._ Dean suspected as much, but he’d hoped he might be mistaken. 

“Do you remember anything about who you are?”

‘No’.

Angel looked increasingly unhappy as the exchange went on, and Dean was unsure how far he should push the questioning. He did want to know a couple more things that were too important to wait though. 

“Do you know who did this to you?”

‘No’.

_Dammit._

“One last question. When I find the guy, can I beat the shit out of him, or do you wanna do it?”

Angel stared at him wide-eyed for a second, before an amused grin spread across his face and he let out a laugh. It was deep and throaty, and the suddenness of it was so unexpected that Dean was momentarily startled. But _fuck,_ it was a beautiful sound, and one thing he knew for sure, was that he wanted… needed… to hear it again.

Instantly, Dean found his mind flooded with thoughts of the ways he might make Angel laugh. However, he quickly snapped himself out of it when he realised that Angel was waiting for him to proceed, and they still hadn’t finished making the food. Bowing lightly, he proclaimed, “Thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

Angel smiled shyly and pointed to himself, then signed ‘two’.

Dean’s heart stopped. Of course he knew that Angel wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, but that simple gesture meant the world to him. However, he’d made a promise to himself, and he had to get a grip and get back to the task at hand. Making burgers was safe, and what he needed more than anything right now.

Placing the bowl between them, Dean put his hands into the mixture once more, and took enough to make one patty. “This is how you do it,” he said, flattening and shaping it, until it was perfect.

He placed it on the tray, explaining, “We’re gonna make as many as we can, cook two today, and freeze the rest. ‘k?”

Angel signed ‘okay’, then joined Dean in helping to make the rest of the burgers. 

Dean made very sure to keep his hands away from Angel’s as they worked. He understood the need to not touch Angel unexpectedly, but… he was also concerned about what he would do if Angel didn’t flinch. What would he do if he left his hand there? Dean was almost afraid to find out; it was still too soon.

When the burgers were all made - with no further interruptions - Dean put two in a pan and got Angel to get plates, buns, and salad, while he vacuum packed the rest before sticking them in the freezer. By the time they sat down to eat, he was really hungry, and from the enthusiastic way Angel tore into his burger, he was too. 

There wasn’t much time to do anything significant after they’d eaten and cleared up, as it was already after 3:30. Dean switched the screen on and created a viewing account for Angel, then handed him the remote control, and instructed him to look through the movies and shows. “Pick a few for us to watch. We’ll stick ‘em in a queue, and work our way through them.”

Angel beamed at Dean, as if this was the greatest idea he’d ever heard, then began eagerly scrolling through the hundreds of offerings. Dean tried to occupy himself with his computer, rather than just sit there watching what Angel was choosing. He found a website devoted to guitars and strings, and he attempted to focus on that. He did glance sneakily at the screen every now and then, however, and saw that Angel favoured comedies and science fiction/fantasy.

Unsurprisingly, nothing Angel chose was remotely scary; the closest he got to that was classic _Doctor Who,_ with its Daleks, and actors in unconvincing monster suits. Dean wondered if Angel had ever seen it before, and if not, what he would make of the alien robots. There was also an adorable, but hilariously unrealistic robot dog in some of the earlier seasons, Dean remembered. He decided this could be a fun show to watch together; if nothing else, they could make fun of the ‘special effects’.

A couple of minutes after four, the door cam buzzed, and Dean clicked on the screen to reveal the smiling face of Benny. He hadn’t reminded Angel that Benny was coming, but from the expression on his face, he’d remembered what Dean had told him yesterday. He didn’t look afraid, but slightly apprehensive.

“Benny’s a great guy. You’ll see.” Dean clicked the button on his computer, and let Benny into the building, then went to the front door to open it.

He hovered around the door, waiting to see his friend, and as soon as the familiar figure came into view - as always wearing his trademark fisherman’s hat and peacoat - he broke out in a huge grin. When Benny was close enough to grab, he pulled him into an embrace, and they hugged warmly.

“Hey, brother,” Benny said in his southern drawl. “Good to see ya.”

“Likewise.” Dean let go of him and ushered him inside. “Benny, this is Angel. Angel, this is Benny.”

Angel signed ‘hello’, and Benny nodded, holding his hand out to Angel.

Angel took the proffered hand shyly, and as they shook hands, Benny said, “Good to meet you, fella.”

“Coffee?” Dean asked, already on his way to the kitchen. He knew Benny would never turn down a coffee, and he knew how he liked it; strong and black.

“You bet,” Benny called after him. 

When Dean returned to the living room, Angel and Benny were seated next to each other, and Benny was asking questions.

“Do they hurt?”

Angel signed ‘no’, and shook his head.

“And you don’t know who did it?”

‘No’.

Dean hadn’t told Benny about the conversation he’d had with Angel earlier, but it seemed Benny had figured that much out on his own, anyway. 

“Would you recognise him if you saw him again?”

Angel looked terrified at the prospect, but he signed ‘yes’, and nodded solemnly.

Well, this was new information. Dean hadn’t thought to ask that question when Angel confirmed that he didn’t know who did this to him. He only meant he didn’t know his name… how could Dean not have thought of that?

Dean put the coffees down on the table, and glanced between the two of them. “What are the chances of Angel seeing him again, though? It’s not like he can go outside.”

Dean really wasn’t sure whether he wanted that to happen or not. Angel had suffered enough, and coming face to face with his torturer again would surely be horribly traumatic for him. But on the other hand, how the hell would he be caught otherwise? It’s not like the police were looking for anyone - they didn’t even know a crime had been committed - and even if they were, Angel couldn’t tell them anything. Not until he’d learned a hell of a lot more ASL, anyway.

Maybe it was time for Dean to ask Sam that question about any cases involving missing persons, or even people with wings. But how could he do that without letting on his reason for such a question? Sam wasn’t stupid, and he would realise immediately that there was something Dean wasn’t telling him.

_What a conundrum._

Benny looked over to Dean, then at Angel, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I might be able to fix up something for you to go out. If you want me to, that is.”

Angel stared at Dean, obviously wanting some guidance on if he should say yes or no.

“If it was safe… sure. Why not?” Dean nodded at Benny enthusiastically, then turned to Angel. “You could probably do with some fresh air.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare coat lying around, would you?” Benny asked Dean.

Dean went to the closet in his bedroom and found the now washed trench coat he’d wrapped Angel in, and brought it back out to Benny. “This any good?”

Benny looked it over, then stood up and gestured for Angel to do the same. “This is perfect. I don’t know where you found it, but… kudos to you.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “It, er… was a gift for Sammy, but I never actually gave it to him.”

“It wouldn’t fit him anyway.” Benny laughed, and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Did you even look at it?”

He had to admit that Benny was right, but it did look like a good fit for Angel. “Okay, you got me. He was never supposed to actually wear it.”

“Just as well, huh?” Benny turned Angel around and held the coat up against him. “Oh yeah, this’ll do just fine. Okay with you if I take some measurements?”

Angel signed ‘yes’, and Benny immediately got to work with his tape measure with the minimum of fuss, noting everything down on his computer. Somehow he managed to get all the measurements he needed without having to touch Angel, and Dean was impressed.

“I should have these done in two days… three, maximum,” Benny said, as Dean handed him the shirts. “The coat will take a while longer. That sound okay?”

“Okay?” Dean huffed. “It’s awesome. I, we… can’t thank you enough.”

“No chick flick moments,” Benny laughed, hugging him again. “I’ll see you soon.”

He shook Angel’s hand, then signed ‘goodbye’, telling Dean with a bashful shrug, “I kinda learned a few signs,” before leaving with the bundle of clothes under his arm.

“Told you he was a good guy, didn’t I?” Dean said, sitting himself back down. “So, what game do you wanna play today?”

_Oh my god._ This was the second time Dean had accidentally made an innuendo like this, and it felt even more wrong this time, somehow. Maybe it was because Angel was showing definite signs of interest in Dean, but Dean didn’t want to encourage him… not yet, anyway.

Not until Angel got his memory back, at least.

Angel either didn’t notice the innuendo, or he did, but decided to leave it alone. Whichever it was, he took up the game controller with barely a moment’s hesitation, and found the screen for the car racing game. The ease with which he navigated the screen and set it up warmed Dean’s heart. He had a feeling that these little steps were what Angel needed to find himself again.

The cars on the screen were ready to go, and for the next hour or so they raced each other - and the other cars - around the track, over and over. As always, it was great fun, and Dean found himself laughing out loud more than once. To Dean’s great disappointment, Angel didn’t laugh again, but Dean could tell how much he was enjoying it from the shy little smiles he kept shooting at him.

Dean was perfectly happy to spend the rest of the evening doing this, and that was more or less exactly what happened; they changed games a few times, and stopped to eat, but the controllers never left their hands, and they hardly moved from the sofa.

By the time Angel went wearily off to bed, Dean felt content in a way he hadn’t for, well… forever.

_Maybe Angel wasn’t the only one gaining something from this situation._

__


	6. Chapter 6

This was pretty much how things continued over the next two weeks, with very little change occurring, other than Dean instituting an exercise routine for them every morning to counteract the effects of them not going out. The almost daily lessons with Eileen helped them exponentially increase their ASL knowledge, and every day Angel showed signs of a growing independence. Plus, Angel received his specially adapted shirts from Benny. 

Angel looked at the shirts in wonder, as Benny explained the adaptations he’d made. Angel was able to slip them on, slot his wings into the holes on each side, then fasten the shirts below each wing with press studs. It was simple but effective, and Dean couldn’t thank Benny enough for the independence this gave Angel. 

Having to help Angel dress everyday was becoming increasingly awkward for Dean, and the little noises Angel made when his wings were touched only made it worse. Dean couldn’t tell if it was hurting Angel, or if it was something else entirely, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to examine it too closely.

Angel being able to put on his own shirts made things easier in that regard, for Dean, but it created a different problem altogether; wearing clothes that fit him properly made him more attractive… if that was even possible. They hugged him in all the right places, accentuating the muscles that were now becoming more defined, what with the exercises, and him eating more regularly than he’d obviously been used to.

It certainly made the nights more interesting, when Dean was alone and conjuring up a variety of fantasies involving Angel and his wings.

Dean was happy to see that each day Angel made progress with his confidence and independence. Watching him go off to the kitchen unprompted, to grab a coffee, or something to eat was a huge step in the right direction. Dean didn’t remark on it, though; he didn’t want to say anything that might make Angel self conscious, and risk any kind of setback.

The nightmares were still coming every night, but they were definitely less upsetting for Angel, and Dean wondered if he even needed to comfort him each time. He kept on doing it however, as it helped him fall back to sleep, knowing that Angel was settled again.

Angel’s favourite thing seemed to be listening to Dean play his music, and it quickly became a routine that he would activate Colonel at the same time as picking up the guitar, and then they would sit together; Angel with a serene smile on his face. For Dean, it was sitting with Angel at the end of the day, playing whichever game Angel chose, or watching something on the screen. It felt gloriously domestic and comfortable, and the only thing that could make it better would be for them to take that final step and act on the sexual tension that was ever present - and growing - between them. 

It was curious, but Dean could swear that in these moments, Angel practically glowed. A blue light seemed to emanate from him, making him appear even more beautiful… more ethereal. Dean was certain that Angel’s eyes were getting bluer too. How that was even possible, he had no idea, but they were without doubt a different colour than they had been when Dean found him.

They’d had a great evening, playing Dagon’s Dragons, but Dean wasn’t surprised at all when he woke up to the sound of Angel crying out in anguish. This had become so much a part of his daily life now, that Dean hopped out of his makeshift bed without a second thought, and went straight into the bedroom. Half asleep, and barely glancing at Angel, he sat himself on the edge of the bed, and put his hand on his back, between the wings.

Dean gasped, and almost pulled his hand away, when it came into contact with bare skin. Every other night, Angel had worn a shirt, but now suddenly he wasn’t, and Dean didn’t know what to do. His hand lay warm on Angel’s skin, and the way it moved under his touch with his breaths was mesmerising.

Angel not wearing a shirt wasn’t the only thing that was different; Dean belatedly became aware that Angel’s breathing wasn’t distressed at all, and his eyes were wide open.

_Oh, fuck._ Dean had to get out of there before they did something that changed things between them forever.

He was about to stand up, when Angel turned onto his back and stared up at him, gently taking hold of his wrist. Dean froze. His heart was pounding, and his breaths became shallow, and caught in his chest. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Angel’s, but he knew that the other man was similarly affected, from the way his chest had begun to rise and fall rapidly.

Angel slowly raised his head up until their faces were inches apart, and gazed deeply into his eyes. When he reached his other hand out to cup Dean’s cheek, Dean instinctively leaned into the touch, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. When he opened them again, Angel had moved closer still, and Dean could feel his breath on his face.

Dean knew now that he was done for; he couldn’t… didn’t want to… deny his feelings any longer, and he leaned forward until their lips were just touching. For a few seconds, they stayed unmoving, just drinking each other in. Then, “Angel,” he whispered, but that was all he got out before Angel captured his lips in a desperate kiss.

Dean didn’t think he’d ever experienced passion like it. Trembling, Angel pulled him into his arms, and hungrily explored Dean’s mouth with his tongue. He manoeuvred Dean until he could crush their bodies together, and he wrapped Dean tightly in his arms, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

Dean melted into Angel, running his hands through that gorgeous mop of hair, and tasting the sweetness of those lips he’d wondered about so many times. 

It wasn’t just Dean’s mouth Angel was exploring; he pushed his hands up under Dean’s pyjama shirt, and ran his hands over every bit of skin he could reach, touching… feeling. Very quickly though, it stopped being enough for him, and he broke off the kiss, grabbed hold of Dean’s shirt, and swiftly pulled it up and off. As he relieved Dean of the garment, Angel took the opportunity to caress and stroke Dean’s sides, and Dean shuddered involuntarily.

With an impressive dexterity and show of strength, Angel manoeuvred Dean again, and he found himself on his back, with Angel straddling him. There was a chink of light coming through the crack in the curtains, and Dean could see Angel gazing down at him in wonder… almost as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. 

He put one hand on Dean's chest, and trailed his fingers across it, before leaning down and planting a soft kiss just above his nipple. Dean gasped, as Angel began to kiss every part of him he could reach; his neck, collarbones, nipples, abdomen, ribs… Angel worshipped each spot with his mouth. Dean tried not to squirm, but the sensations made that very hard.

Speaking of hard… Dean was so turned on, and not just because of what Angel was doing with his mouth. The way he was taking charge was all kinds of hot, and Dean had to admit that this was something he always enjoyed. Being taken care of wasn’t something Dean experienced very often, but the bedroom was the one place he felt comfortable letting that happen.

Angel was working his way down Dean’s body, but he stopped when he reached the waistband of his pyjamas, and glanced up at Dean with one eyebrow raised, as if asking for permission. Dean was temporarily lost for words, what with the hungry look Angel was giving him, but he managed a nod of the head, and signed ‘yes’. 

Angel nodded back, then ever so slowly started to slide Dean’s pyjama pants down, until his cock was freed. He took hold of it and dipped his head down, and for one moment Dean thought he was going to examine it the way he did everything else for the first time. But he didn’t; instead he opened his mouth and took in as much of it as he could, wrapping his lips around the shaft.

_Jesus… fuck._

Dean groaned as Angel began to bob his head, and swirl his tongue around the tip, using his other hand to gently squeeze Dean’s balls. Dean bucked up into the wet heat of Angel’s mouth, and without missing a beat, Angel placed his other hand on Dean’s chest to hold him still. That feeling of power… _dear god…_ Dean almost came right then, from the sheer hedonistic pleasure he was receiving.

Angel sped up his movements, as his wings flared out behind him, and Dean really wanted Angel to fuck him, but his mouth and his hand, and the wings… it all felt too good.

"Fuck. Fuck me," he gritted out.

Angel stopped his movements and looked up at Dean, then slowly pulled his mouth off his cock, flattening his tongue against the underside as he did so. He crawled purposefully back up Dean’s body, planting open-mouthed kisses along the way, then gazed into his eyes, breathing heavily.

Angel nipped at Dean's bottom lip, and ran his tongue over it, then crushed their mouths together, hard. Dean could taste himself on Angel's tongue; it was kind of dirty, but he loved it. He loved all of it.

A part of Dean thought about completely letting go and just enjoying the ride, but there was something he wanted to do. He slipped his hand inside Angel's pyjama pants, and wrapped his hand around his cock. 

Angel immediately broke off the kiss and gasped loudly, arching his back and flaring his wings even wider.

"Oh yeah, that's good, huh?" Dean licked up his neck, and sucked on his pulse point. 

Angel nodded, and gasped again as Dean began to stroke.

"If you think that feels good, just wait 'til you're inside of me," Dean whispered in his most seductive voice, wiggling his hips for emphasis.

Before Angel could react to that, Dean thumbed the head of his cock, eliciting the most adorable whimpering noises from him. His eyes fluttered shut and he laid his head on Dean's chest, and… he was doing that glowing thing again. Dean was mesmerised by it, but he realised that if he didn't want Angel to come before they got to the main action, he needed to stop and let Angel compose himself.

He took his hand off Angel’s cock, and reached over to his bedside drawer. Angel took that moment to grind against him, momentarily stopping him from finding what he needed. It felt good, but Dean wanted more… much more.

Handing Angel the bottle of lube and a condom, he said. “We’re gonna need these.”

Angel took them hesitantly, one eyebrow raised, and for one second Dean wondered if he would know what they were for. That question seemed to be answered though, when he put them down on the bed, ripped off his own pants, followed by Dean’s, then flipped Dean over onto his stomach. Draping himself over Dean’s back, he pulled him up onto his hands and knees, and kissed down his spine. 

Dean didn’t realise that Angel had opened the bottle of lube, until he felt a wet finger circling and probing at his entrance. He loved the tender way Angel ever so carefully worked the tip of his finger in, then began to slowly fuck him with it, going a little deeper each time he pushed it back in.

It was the most gentle fuck Dean had ever gotten, but despite that he could feel his breathing becoming shallower, and he couldn’t help the increasingly loud moans he was letting out. He wanted Angel to get on with it and fuck him with more than his fingers, but it was obvious that Angel was using these actions to show Dean how much he wanted to care for him in return.

Angel was still leaving kisses along his spine, and fucking him with reverence… now with two fingers, and he thought he might burst with the need for more. 

_Fuck, yes… more._

Just as he was about to ask Angel to please hurry up, the fingers were withdrawn, and he heard the rustling of a condom wrapper. There was a beat of hesitation, before Dean found himself on his back once more, and he was staring into Angel’s faintly glowing blue eyes. 

Angel cupped Dean’s face with his hands, and leaned down for another breathtaking kiss; all teeth and tongues, and moans of pleasure. Then he lifted Dean’s legs until they were in the perfect position, and… finally Dean felt the head of his cock pressing against his rim.

_Oh, god,_ that felt so good. Dean thrust up to meet him, taking it all in until Angel was fully inside him. Dean wanted Angel to start moving, but when he looked into Angel’s eyes, he could see that he was a little dazed. 

By way of encouragement, Dean began to gyrate his hips; gently at first, then more insistent. This eventually brought Angel back to his senses, and he suddenly pulled out, then thrust back in hard. 

“Yeah, Angel, just like that,” Dean groaned, wrapping his legs around Angel’s lower back and digging his heels in. 

Angel immediately set up a punishing pace, fucking into him enthusiastically. Dean could hear his own moans getting louder and louder, and when Angel hit his prostate he practically wailed. 

“Fucking… _fuck._ ” 

Angel smiled and did it again, and Dean grinned back, before lifting his head and nipping at Angel’s bottom lip. “Come on Angel, give it to me.”

Angel took Dean’s cock in his hand once more, and started stroking it in time with his thrusts. Dean could feel that familiar tightening in his groin, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He wanted Angel to come with him though, and he wondered if touching his wings would get him there sooner. He reached his hands out and ran them along the feathers, causing Angel to gasp and flinch slightly. He tried to fold them against his back, and Dean wondered if he felt ashamed of them. He needed to tell him how amazing they were.

“You don't ever have to hide them. They’re beautiful,” Dean whispered. “Magnificent.”

Angel looked surprised, but he opened them out again, and Dean reached out to touch them once more. Angel made a kind of purring sound, and trembled violently.

“Feels good, don’t it?”

Angel nodded, and Dean continued the wing caresses, across and down, over the feathers. This was obviously all Angel needed to tip over the edge, and he fucked into him harder than he’d done before, his whole body shaking as his orgasm ripped through him.

The glowing light coming from Angel became so bright that Dean could barely see, but he could make out a huge shadow of his wings on the ceiling and walls. 

_Holy fuck!_ The power and spectacle of those wings and the iridescent blue of his eyes, Angel’s deep thrusts inside of him as he was coming, and his hand, hot and tight around Dean’s shaft… it was too much.

Dean arched his back off the bed, and came with a shout, spilling his seed over Angel’s hand. They continued moving like that for a few seconds more until they were spent, then Angel collapsed on top of him, trying to catch his breath.

Dean kissed the top of his head, and he lifted it enough to look into his eyes.

“Holy fuck… that was awesome,” Dean croaked out.

Angel’s smile was tired but happy, as he raised his hand and stroked Dean’s cheek with his thumb. It was so affectionate… so reverent… that Dean almost couldn’t bear it. He came close to telling Angel to pack it in, when he bent down and playfully licked a stripe up Dean’s chest. Dean squirmed, and definitely didn’t squeak.

Angel let out that laugh Dean had been dying to hear again, and Dean just had to kiss him once more. When he broke off the kiss, Angel carefully pulled out, then rolled off him. His eyes were still glowing faintly in the dark, and Dean wondered if it was some kind of magic. Had he put a spell on Dean? Was this a dream? If it was, it was the most realistic dream ever. 

Angel removed the condom and stood up from the bed, and Dean wasn’t sure if he should stay. He moved to get up as well, but Angel signed ‘no’, and pressed lightly on Dean’s chest, before leaving the room. He returned a minute later, with a warm washcloth, and cleaned Dean up, then dropped it on the bedside cabinet, got back into bed, and pulled Dean into his strong arms.

Dean loved the sex, but this cuddling was something different altogether. He felt safe and adored… loved even, and for tonight, he wasn’t going to worry about whether Angel knew his own mind. Angel had been very clear about what he wanted, and there was not even a slight suggestion that Dean had taken advantage of him.

Angel found his lips again, kissing him as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste and the feel of them. Dean hooked his leg over Angel’s thighs, and he fell asleep like that, sated and content.

When Dean woke up in the morning, he could have sworn he was on his own mattress in his own bed. He snuggled into it, trying to relive that amazing dream he’d had last night, and _ohhh…_ The peaceful sense of well-being that he was wallowing in began to dissolve, and he snapped his eyes open. 

He was met with a sea of blue, gazing at him. Angel leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, then his left eyelid, and the right.

_Well, fuck._ It wasn’t a dream, but Dean had the realisation that he shouldn’t feel ashamed, like he’d done something bad. Angel wanted him there; in fact, he had stopped him from leaving. Maybe all those little steps towards independence were always leading to this… to Angel having the courage to take exactly what he wanted.

As if that thought wasn’t amazing enough, Angel then did something extraordinary. He opened his mouth, and in the deepest of voices, that sounded like it hadn’t been used for centuries, he spoke.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Angel.” Dean’s own voice was suddenly scratchy, and he couldn’t control the tremor in it, as a tear slipped down his face.

The smile on Angel's face disappeared, as he wiped the tear away with his thumb and regarded Dean with concern.

Dean shook his head, took Angel's hand in his, and brought it to his mouth to gently kiss the knuckles. "I'm not upset. It’s just… you spoke, and I wasn’t expecting it, and… _fuck._ It threw me through a loop, is all. Also, did you know your voice is really fucking sexy?”

Angel’s smile reappeared, and he blushed adorably. Dean found that pretty funny, considering what they’d gotten up to last night. “You going all bashful on me, Angel?”

“No.” By way of demonstrating this, Angel slid closer, until he and Dean were touching. Leaning in for a kiss, he once again took Dean’s breath away with his passion and enthusiasm for exploring Dean’s mouth.

Within seconds, Dean had been flipped onto his back and they became a tangle of limbs as they wound themselves around each other. The grinding, stroking, and caressing was driving Dean wild with desire, but he knew they didn’t have long before Eileen was due to arrive, and they still needed a shower.

“Hey. You wanna take this to the shower?” Dean breathed out in between kisses, as he held onto Angel’s ass, and ground their naked groins together.

Angel nodded yes, but from the way he was gasping and writhing against Dean, he seemed as reluctant as Dean was to actually move.

With extreme willpower, Dean slipped out from underneath Angel, stood up, and held out his hand to help Angel up. “C’mon. We can get hot and steamy in the bathroom.”

Angel took his hand and climbed off the bed, allowing Dean to get a good look at him for the first time. He’d seen Angel’s chest and legs before - and those seriously impressive biceps - but this was the first time he’d gotten to see the full package. The sight was mouth-watering; Angel had filled out to a nice healthy size in the last few weeks, and he had muscles and curves in all the right places. He also had an alluring pair of hip bones, and speaking of size… last night that cock had filled Dean in the most satisfying way, but now he could see it in all its glory.

_Nice… very nice._

Dean realised that Angel was looking him over in exactly the same way, and Dean laughed, before pulling him out of the bedroom, and towards the bathroom. 

It was lucky that it was only a few steps away, because that cock bobbing up and down made Dean want to get his hands on it again. Or his mouth… or feel it inside him, stretching him open and filling him up until he… _oh, fuck._

By the time they’d got themselves in the shower and under the spray, Dean had worked himself up so much with those thoughts, that he felt like he would explode if he didn’t get gratification soon. 

Dean stepped right into Angel’s personal space, and ran his hands over Angel’s chest, before cupping his face and kissing him; softly at first, then with a growing ferociousness. Angel was touching and stroking every part of Dean he could reach, and he lifted Dean’s legs and wound them around his own waist before pushing him up against the cool tiles.

They weren’t fucking, but the friction of their cocks rubbing together as Angel ground hard against him felt amazing. Dean started to wonder if he would come just like this - like some kind of horny teenager - when Angel suddenly took them both in hand and began to stroke. 

“Oh, fuck, yeah. Just like that.” Dean groaned at the dual sensation of their cocks being pressed together, and Angel’s hand expertly guiding him towards his orgasm.

Dean rested his head against the wall, and they gazed into each other’s eyes as Angel’s hand worked faster and faster over their shafts. Angel was making those adorable whimpering noises again, and Dean’s eyes briefly fluttered shut. When he opened them again, Angel’s stunning, and glowing blues were staring at him intensely, as the noises they were both making got louder and louder.

Dean placed his hands on Angel’s wings, making him cry out.

“You know how many times I thought about getting my hands on those wings? On you? I… _ohhhh._ ” Dean was close, and he could feel Angel was too.

Leaning forward, Dean put his mouth next to Angel’s ear, and groaned. “I know you thought about it too. That’s why you lured me into the bedroom, isn’t it?” Angel looked shocked, as if he’d been caught out, and Dean realised he needed to show him that he was fully on board with the subterfuge. Cupping Angel’s face tenderly, he added, “You couldn’t hold back any longer could you, and _fuck…_ am I glad you made a move.” 

Dean saw the resolve settle on Angel's face, saw the moment he let the guilt go. Then he moaned as Angel shoved him firmly into the shower wall, licked a stripe up Dean's neck, and sucked at that spot just under the bolt of his jaw that always made Dean weak in the knees.

"Shit, Angel," Dean had always liked dirty talk during sex, and Angel’s silence made him want to do it even more. “Thinking about you pushing me up against the wall, and your lips… what you might do with them, and fucking… _oh, god!_ " 

Dean’s climax hit him suddenly, as his body shook and his come spilled over Angel’s hand. Angel held him up with an awesome display of strength, and didn’t let up with the stroking, until he came too. As had happened last night, the glowing intensified the closer he got to his orgasm, and his wings flared out behind him.

“Jesus.” Dean panted as he tried to get his breath back. “Have you got any idea how hot that is?”

Angel was still coming, and Dean dug his heels into his buttocks. “Yeah, Angel. That’s it… get it all out.”

Angel responded by kissing Dean as if he needed his breath to sustain him. Dean pulled him closer, revelling in the feeling of that firm body pressed against his, as Angel removed his hand from their cocks and rinsed it under the water.

He could have stayed like that all day, but Eileen was going to show up any minute now. Breaking off the kiss, he said, “Sorry, Angel, but we’ve gotta make ourselves decent before Eileen arrives.”

Angel frowned, but nodded in understanding as Dean lowered his legs until he was in a standing position once more. Dean moved over until he was fully under the spray, and stayed like that for a minute or two, soothing his tired muscles from two rounds of awesome sex. 

When he looked up, Angel was watching transfixed, and Dean knew that if they weren’t careful they would be all over each other again. “Later, okay? I need a couple of hours to recover.” He winked, and Angel grabbed his ass playfully in response.

“Yes, this ass will be all yours later. But let’s not traumatise Eileen, huh?” Dean laughed as he stepped out of the shower, and started to dry himself with his towel. 

He could hear Angel washing himself, but he wasn’t going to look; that would be a very bad idea. Instead, he went off to the bedroom and quickly got dressed, pulling on his last sock just as Angel came into the room. 

Totally shamelessly, he dropped his towel to reveal his still glistening-with-water, naked body, and Dean’s mouth went dry. “Hey, that’s not playing fair,” he complained. “I’m gonna make some coffee and not think about you teasing me like this.”

He left the room, shaking his head in mock disappointment, to the sound of Angel chuckling. _Goddamn…_ he really wasn’t playing fair.

Dean got the coffee on not a moment too soon, as the door cam buzzed, announcing Eileen's arrival. He let her into the building, then watched Angel as he came into the room. His hair was noticeably damp, and Dean hoped it wouldn’t be obvious to Eileen that his was too. Not that he was embarrassed about what he and Angel had gotten up to last night - and again this morning - but Dean would prefer to tell her when he was ready.

Eileen’s knock on the door broke Dean out of his reflective moment, and he went to open it, acting as naturally as he could manage. “Hey, Eileen, come in.”

Eileen peered at him, then over at Angel, who was standing in the middle of the living room. “Well, it's about time,” she laughed.

Dean stared at her incredulously. “What’re you talking about? I don’t know what you-”

“Really, Dean? You don’t?” Eileen stepped further into the apartment and signed ‘hello’ to Angel. 

How were they so obvious? Dean didn’t have time to ask, before Eileen answered his unspoken question. 

“You both look shifty; like you’re trying to hide something. Plus Angel is glowing brighter than I’ve ever seen him.”

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times, and Eileen patted him on the shoulder in a consoling manner.

“My ears might not work, but my eyes do, and I see the way you two look at each other when you think no one’s watching. It’s adorable as fuck, and also frustrating as hell; so now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, maybe we can stop with the heart eyes?”

Angel looked just as surprised by Eileen’s words as Dean was, and he looked between Dean and Eileen, obviously waiting to see what Dean’s reaction would be.

“Oh, no.” Dean grinned, and winked at his sister-in-law. “Now that it’s all out in the open, we’re gonna be worse than ever.” He glanced at Angel, hoping he would be okay with that, and wasn’t one of those people who hated public displays of affection.

Without hesitation, Angel took his hand and squeezed it affectionately. “Yes.”

Eileen started to make a fake gagging noise, but stopped as a look of wonder crossed her face. “You spoke,” she said to Angel, before turning to Dean. “He spoke?”

“Yeah. It happened this morning, when we… after we…” Dean rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, and then it was Eileen’s turn to wink.

“Oh, really? That must’ve been a pretty good-”

“Eileen!” Dean interrupted. He was not about to start discussing his sex life with her, no matter how supportive she was.

“Sorry,” she said, not looking even the tiniest bit sorry. “But do you guys even need me anymore? If Angel’s talking again?”

Good question. Dean hadn’t had time to think about that; in fact, he was still processing everything that had happened since last night. “I, er… dunno.” He looked to Angel, hoping that he might have an answer.

Angel signed ‘yes’, and Dean nodded in understanding. He had a good idea as to why Angel wanted to continue the ASL lessons.

"He's only said a couple of words so far," Dean explained. "My guess is, Angel thinks he should learn more signs, in case he struggles to say any more. Or he can't speak again, for whatever reason. Am I right?"

'Yes', signed Angel, nodding solemnly. 

"Also, he's gonna get fed up with me pretty quickly if the only face he sees is this one.” Dean pointed to his face and grimaced. “And yours is much prettier than mine." Dean laughed at his own joke, but Angel didn't seem to find that funny. He frowned at Dean, and shook his head, before signing 'no, you beautiful'.

Dean discovered there was a lump in his throat all of a sudden, and ironically, he found he couldn’t speak either. 

Eileen coughed, and they both turned to look at her. “I just remembered I have something important to do. If it’s okay with you, we’ll skip today’s lesson.”

She started back towards the front door, before stopping and facing them. “I’m really happy for you. You’re very cute together,” she said, before rushing off through the door.

Dean stared after her, then turned to look at Angel. “Well… what are we gonna do now?”

In hindsight, Dean realised that was quite a stupid question. Angel took his hand and tugged him towards the bedroom, with a devilish glint in his eye.

  
More sex? _Ah well… there were infinitely worse ways to die._

__


	7. Chapter 7

Over the next few days, Dean lost track of how much sex he and Angel had, and when they weren’t going at it like rabbits, they could barely keep their hands off each other. During their lessons, Eileen insisted that their hands were strictly for signing, but the rest of the time it was a free for all.

While getting to know each other intimately, Dean discovered that Angel’s wings were extremely sensitive, and he really loved it if Dean ran his hands over them when he was about to come. This gave him the most intense orgasms, that would rip through him, leaving him exhausted but definitely satisfied.

For Dean, he realised that the more Angel took charge, the more he liked it. On the third day of their sexual relationship, when Angel pinned Dean’s arms to the bed and fucked him fast and unrelenting, Dean came so hard he thought he might black out.

In the quiet moments, when Dean had time to think, he would often get this nagging feeling that there was still an unresolved issue - especially as Angel hadn’t uttered anymore than ‘yes’, ‘no’, and ‘hello, Dean’; and some nights he was still having nightmares - but for now, he was enjoying this way too much to examine it too closely.

When the coat Benny had adapted was finally delivered, they looked on raptly as Benny demonstrated how it would work. As well as making the same slits in the back as he’d done with the shirts, he’d attached some pieces of fabric in the same colour as the coat, and the exact shape of Angel’s wings.

“It’s probably best if you only wear it after dark,” Benny advised, as he helped Angel to put it on. He walked around Angel, looking him over, and adjusting the coat, until he was satisfied. “Perfect,” he declared, looking to Dean for approval.

Dean let out a whistle of appreciation as he surveyed Benny’s handiwork. He could still see the wings, but the way they were camouflaged was ingenious. He was certain that Angel could get away with wearing it in the dark, and not be noticed. “That’s awesome. Thanks, man.”

Benny accepted a modest payment for his work, before announcing that he needed to leave, and Dean walked him to the door. He hadn’t mentioned anything about Dean and Angel, but as he hugged Dean goodbye, he obviously felt that the time was right to say something.

“You look good together, brother. I hope it all works out, and you find the piece of shit who did this to Angel.”

Dean patted him on the back and gave him another “thank you,” then let him go and went back to join Angel, who was examining the coat. He got upset if he thought too much about what Angel had been through, so he distracted himself by praising the coat, and Benny’s skill with a needle.

“It looks awesome, doesn’t it? Thank fuck for Benny, huh?”

Angel smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.”

“You wanna give it a test run later?”

“Yes.”

Angel was practically twitching with excitement, and Dean could understand why; he’d been stuck inside for weeks now - and possibly a lot longer than that with his torturer - and now he was going to get some fresh air. Dean was also looking forward to it, as he realised that since Angel had come to stay, he’d hardly stepped outside either.

As the afternoon wore on, the anticipation built, until Dean was in a state of nervous trepidation. Almost as soon as darkness had descended, Angel pulled on his coat, and was standing by the front door waiting for Dean. 

Dean chuckled as he put on his own coat, shaking his head fondly at Angel’s impatience. They went to the elevator, and Angel took Dean’s hand in his as they waited, holding on tight as they travelled down to where they could join the outside world for a little while.

Dean took in a deep breath once they were outside, and Angel did the same. Dean smiled at him again and squeezed his hand, then they set off on their walk. They weren’t going anywhere in particular; it was just a pleasant moonlit stroll.

It was at least five minutes before they encountered anyone else, and Dean felt the moment Angel tensed up with worry about his wings. Dean didn’t say anything, but he ran his thumb over the back of Angel’s hand comfortingly, as a man who appeared to be in his forties rushed past them without a glance in their direction.

Angel breathed a sigh of relief, and Dean wiped his brow dramatically. 

“So far, so good.”

Now that that test had been passed with ease, Angel seemed quite content to continue walking, and each time they encountered another person who paid them no attention, he became noticeably more relaxed. By the time they arrived back at the apartment, they had been walking for the better part of an hour, and Angel’s wings had remained unnoticed. Dean felt refreshed, and it was clear from the radiant glow that Angel was exuding, that he was feeling just as invigorated.

_Awesome._

__

Being able to go outside safely and anonymously meant that their after dark walks very quickly became a welcome and vital part of their routine. Eileen would visit in the mornings for their ASL lessons, and in the afternoons Dean spent as long as he was able working on his music, with Angel listening enraptured. 

_  
_Angel’s forays into the kitchen were becoming more frequent and more adventurous, and their bedroom activities were never less than awesome. All in all, Dean was damn happy with his life with Angel. He still wished that he knew Angel’s true identity, and what he’d been through… and he desperately wanted to get his hands on the son of a bitch responsible, but for now it was fine. _Wasn’t it?_

__

A few days later, on one of their night time walks, they found themselves passing close to the alley where Dean had first found Angel. Dean wondered if Angel would recognise it at all, but from the way he didn't react, it appeared not. It wasn't so surprising; after all, he had been in bad shape.

"Hey, this is where I first saw you." Dean pointed to the alleyway, and Angel nodded in understanding. "I wonder how you got there… where you came from," Dean added.

'I don't know,' Angel signed, shrugging for emphasis. 

_Maybe we'll never know,_ Dean thought, as they continued their walk.

The night was dull and grey, and the neon cross on the church nearby was a beacon in the darkness, welcoming those in need of spiritual guidance. As they approached the building, Dean was about to remark on how much he admired Chuck for keeping the church open despite the fall in numbers, when the man in question appeared in the doorway, with a woman who Dean recognised as a regular attendee named Naomi.

Before Dean could greet him, Angel yanked him back, and into the alleyway, fear and shock on his face. He was shaking so hard that Dean was unable to help him control it, even with a comforting embrace. 

Dean didn't say a word; he didn't need to. It was blindingly obvious that Angel was terrified of Chuck, and it didn't take a genius to work out that he was behind Angel's trauma. 

_Chuck, though?_ Dean was bemused. He always seemed like such a friendly guy, and what would have been referred to in the twentieth century as a hippie.

In a way, it was lucky Angel was in such terror, because worrying about him was the only thing stopping Dean from leaving him there, going to the church, and beating the everloving shit out of Chuck. 

He could feel the rage boiling up inside him, and it was getting harder to control with every passing moment. He needed to get Angel home and safe, and then he would return to kill the bastard.

"It's okay, it's okay," Dean soothed. "He can't hurt you anymore, and if he tries, I'll fucking kill him."

Angel clung onto him for dear life, and Dean stroked his hair in an attempt to calm him. 

After a minute or two, Dean decided that they needed to move, so he gently pried Angel's arms off him, and poked his head around the corner. There was no sign of Chuck, so Dean took Angel's hand and made a dash for home before they were spotted. 

Dean could sense Angel's entire body trembling as they ran, and he only hoped they could reach the apartment without further incident. Thankfully, they reached the building quickly, and there was no one else around as they waited for the elevator, trying to catch their breath.

When Dean glanced at Angel's face, he was horrified at what he saw. All the colour had drained away, and there were tears streaking his cheeks. 

_Fucking hell._ What the fuck had that asshole done to him… and why had he done it? It made no sense. 

The elevator arrived, and they bundled inside, Angel gripping onto Dean like his mere presence was stopping him from falling to pieces.

Once they were inside the apartment, Dean hoped Angel would become calmer. But it became clear that seeing Chuck had triggered a panic attack, and all Dean could do was to get Angel onto the bed and hold him.

There was no chance of going back out to deal with Chuck - not tonight, anyway - it was much more important for Dean to be there for Angel.

Chuck would pay for what he'd done though. Dean would make damn sure of that.

Other than going to the bathroom to pee, they didn't move from this position all night. Dean hardly slept, especially after Angel had the worst nightmare he'd had since the first couple of nights.

Dean's emotions were a mixture of sorrow and fury, and he veered between the two as the night progressed. He knew he'd been avoiding thinking about this moment for too long, but now he was going to have to face it head on.

As it got lighter outside, Angel stirred in Dean’s arms. He hadn’t slept right through, but he’d still gotten more sleep than Dean. Dean ruffled Angel’s hair, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “Mornin’, Angel.”

Dean took a good look at him, and it was a fair assessment to say that he looked awful. His face was streaked with tears, his glow was gone, and worst of all, the stunning blue of his eyes had faded. 

_Oh, fuck no… that was too much to bear._ Dean felt like all the good he’d done over the last few weeks had been for nothing, and he felt like crying in despair. 

Angel kissed Dean back, and he was soon climbing on top of Dean and trying to pull his clothes off. But something felt wrong - like Angel was initiating sex to ground himself, instead of it being because he was horny - so Dean broke off the kiss and held his face tenderly.

“Hey, hey… you don’t have to do that. If you really wanted to, I’d be totally on board… you know that. But I can tell you’re not in it for the right reason.”

Angel stared at him for a second, then laid his head on Dean’s chest as a sob escaped him.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, ever again. You’re safe here, and no one can hurt you, ‘k?”

Angel kept his head on Dean’s chest and nodded, his breathing gradually evening out as they both drifted off to sleep again.

An indeterminate time later, a persistent buzzing pulled Dean out of his sleep, and as he opened his eyes, it dawned on him; Eileen. _Shit!_

“It’s Eileen. I forgot.”

Angel nodded, and signed ‘I know’.

“I’ll get rid of her. Tell her you’re sick.”

‘No’, Angel signed, shaking his head vehemently.

“No? You want me to tell her what happened?”

‘Yes’.

Dean had to admit that he was impressed at how much Angel trusted Eileen. He’d obviously really taken to her, and that was a testament to her character.

“Okay, I’ll let her in.”

Dean got off the bed and scrambled for his computer to let her in, then he waited by the front door while Angel hovered beside him. Dean had a feeling that Angel was going to stick closely to him, for the time being, at least. 

He’d managed to remove their coats and boots before they’d got into bed, but nothing else, and he knew they must look a mess. This was confirmed the moment Eileen came through the door.

“Apologies for interrupting your love fest,” she started. “But can’t you boys wait… ” She trailed off as she took in their crumpled appearance, and her pissed off expression turned to one of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Not really, no. Come in and I’ll explain.”

Eileen followed them inside, raising a questioning eyebrow at the way Angel stayed constantly plastered to Dean’s side. They sat, and Dean began, signing the words he knew.

“We took a walk last night, past the church, and Chuck came outside. And Angel freaked… it’s him, Eileen. He’s the fucker who hurt Angel.”

Eileen stared wide-eyed in shock, obviously as surprised at this realisation as Dean was. “Chuck? Quiet, god-fearing Chuck…?”

“Yep.” 

“What the… but why?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Eileen got to her feet, and paced around the room. “I’ll kill him.”

“Get in line,” Dean said, as an idea came to him. “Actually, could you sit with Angel while I-”

“No.” Angel shouted, making them both jump. ‘Don’t leave me’, he signed, frantically.

Dean pulled him into his arms, murmuring, “Sorry, Angel. I won’t go anywhere.” Then, making eye contact with Eileen, he mouthed, ‘I don’t know what to do’.

“We need to tell Sam about this,” Eileen declared, pulling her computer from her pocket. “He’ll bring the nasty shit to justice.”

“But-” Dean started, before Eileen interrupted him again.

“You’re not a vigilante, Dean. And anyway, it’s about time you brought Sam into the loop, and explained why you haven’t spoken to him for weeks. I told him you met someone, but that excuse is wearing thin, especially since he thinks I met that someone before he did.”

“Well, technically speaking, you’re right. But he’s gonna be so mad when he finds out.”

“Leave Sam to me. He’ll understand when he knows the full story.” Eileen gave Dean a soft smile as Angel clung onto him, then she went into the kitchen and closed the door while she spoke to her husband.

Dean felt the warmth of Angel’s body as they held each other, and tiredness took over as it began to seep into his very being. For a while, he was aware of low voices and other sounds in the room, until his door cam woke him up. Fumbling for his computer, he tried to find the right button to click, until a hand stopped him. It was Angel, and he was gazing down at him.

‘Eileen is answering the door’, he signed, and Dean looked over to see her waiting by the door, presumably for Sam.

This was going to be awkward as hell, but Dean knew that it had to happen eventually. He still felt the bile rising inside him, though; he hated that he’d kept this from Sam.

When his giant of a brother came through the door, Dean jumped up and held his arms out for a hug. Hopefully Sam wouldn’t reject him. “Sammy!”

Sam frowned, but hugged him anyway, though it wasn’t as warm as he’d hoped. “Dean? Did you forget to tell me something?” He pulled back and stared at Dean, then looked over at Angel. 

“Damn, I don’t even know where to start.” Dean looked around for his coffee, before remembering that he hadn’t had a single cup yet today. That needed rectifying, immediately.

“How about at the beginning?” Sam sat down on a chair that had somehow made its way from the bedroom, and crossed his arms.

“Coffee… I need coffee.” Dean started to get to his feet, but Eileen held up her hand.

“I’ll get it. You… talk.” She went to the kitchen before Dean could protest.

Dean took a deep breath. _Okay._ “This is Angel.” He indicated his… boyfriend?... and continued. “I found him in an alleyway, hurt and bleeding, and traumatised. I brought him home to fix him up, and I realised that he’d been hurt deliberately… tortured. So I’ve been looking after him, but I couldn’t tell you because of the wings.”

Sam looked decidedly unimpressed. “But you could tell Eileen? That’s just great, Dean.”

Eileen came back from the kitchen with a mug of coffee, and set it in front of Dean.

“It wasn’t like that,” Dean protested. “She found out accidentally. See… Angel doesn’t speak, and I wanted to find out how to teach him sign language. Only, Eileen turned up here and saw Angel, and… she offered to teach him. Don’t be mad at her. It’s my fault.”

Dean felt like the worst kind of asshole, and he could barely look Sam in the eye. He’d really fucked up.

“So, why tell me all of a sudden?” Sam asked, sullenly.

“We went out for a walk, and Angel saw the person who tortured him. It was Chuck, Sammy… Chuck!”

Sam sat forward, clearly interested now. “Chuck did what? What exactly did he do?”

“The wings, and the scars on his back. I dunno what else; Angel can’t… won’t tell me.”

“So then, how do you know?” Sam peered curiously at Angel, as if that might reveal the information he sought.

“That it was Chuck?” Dean asked for confirmation, and Sam nodded.

“If you’d seen Angel’s face - how scared he was - it would’ve been obvious to you too. He was terrified, Sammy.”

Angel had shifted closer on the sofa, and was now practically sitting in Dean’s lap. A look of understanding crossed Sam’s face.

“Are you two…” He pointed at them, and raised an eyebrow in question.

Dean took Angel’s hand in both of his, and smiled. “Yep, yes, we are. He makes me very happy.”

“Angel, it’s good to meet you… finally.” Sam extended his hand to Angel in greeting. “Good luck with this one… you’ll need it.”

Angel shook hands with him, then signed, ‘hello, Sam’.

“Angel’s not his real name,” Dean added, almost as an afterthought. “He doesn’t remember who he is.”

“Memory loss?” asked Sam. “Maybe he received a blow to the head when he was injured.”

Dean had considered that, but he’d seen no evidence of any injury that indicated head trauma. He was convinced that the memory loss was as a result of something Chuck had done. “Nah, it’s something else. I’m sure of it.”

Sam sat quietly for a while, looking between Dean, Angel, and Eileen, thinking over what he'd just learned. 

Finally, he spoke. "This is very troubling. I don't know what to think."

"You're gonna arrest him, right? Throw the fucking book at him, and if he accidentally falls on his way to the cells, who cares? Right?"

"Police brutality? Really, Dean?" Sam was obviously not a fan of that approach. "And I can't just go and arrest Chuck because Angel is scared of him… because you're 'sure of it'." Sam added air quotes for emphasis.

"So, what? We've gotta go to the police station and make a statement? And what would they do to Angel when they see him? Perform more surgery on him to remove his wings? Hasn't he suffered enough?" Dean knew he wasn't exactly playing fair with Sam, but surely he could understand why Dean was being so protective.

"I don't see what else we can do, sorry." Sam addressed his apology to Angel. "We have procedures for a reason."

"Couldn't you… I dunno, just check his place out? If you wanna make it official, you could say it was an anonymous tip-off. Or a hunch. What about, you heard Chuck spouting some crazy shit and you were disturbed?"

Sam stared at Angel again, taking in everything about his appearance, until eventually slapping his hands on his thighs decisively, before getting to his feet.

"This better not go sideways, Dean. I'm trusting your word on this. Although, hell if I know why. You haven't exactly… _oof!”_ Sam was nearly knocked over by the hug he got from Dean. 

"Thanks, Sammy, I owe you one. And I'm not wrong about Chuck; you'll see."

Eileen was standing up and hugging Sam too; in fact, the only person in the room not hugging anyone was Angel. He was smiling though, and Dean was pleased to see that, at least. 

"You will be careful, won't you, Sammy?" Dean might have manipulated his brother, but that didn't mean that he wasn't concerned for his safety.

"Yes, Dean. I know how to protect myself." Sam rolled his eyes, and gave Dean one of his bitchfaces. "I'll stake Chuck out. Wait until the place is empty."

Dean squeezed Sam a little tighter. "Thanks, man. You know, I really am sorry I didn't tell you about Angel. I hope you understand why."

Sam sighed, and pulled out of Dean's embrace. "Please don't hide shit from me again, 'k?"

“I promise, I won’t.” Dean chucked Sam on the chin before hugging him once more. 

Sam and Eileen left soon afterwards, with Eileen saying she would return the next day, and Sam promising to keep Dean and Angel informed about the progress of his investigation.

Neither of them had eaten a thing since last night, so even though Dean just wanted to stay on the sofa for the rest of the day, he trudged wearily to the kitchen in search of food.

He quickly decided on PB and J's; Angel loved them, and it was simple to make, which was a definite plus, considering how he was feeling. He got two plates and some bread, and as he began to spread the peanut butter onto the slices, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around him from behind.

Angel put his chin on Dean’s shoulder, and his entire body was plastered against him in a warm, comforting embrace. Dean hummed the tune he’d been composing as he worked, and after a few moments, Angel joined in. It might have been a horrible, traumatic few hours since the events of yesterday evening, but Dean was glad to be able to provide Angel with his favourite food, music, and closeness. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that this would be a cure for his trauma, but it could give him comfort, and that was something that was sorely needed right now.

The rest of that day, and the next, were pretty quiet - other than Eileen’s lesson - and Dean noticed that Angel didn’t want to let him out of his sight for more than a few seconds at a time. Thankfully, he didn’t find the constant presence of his boyfriend irritating… In fact, he was quite happy for them to always be entwined, in one way or another.

Whether they were gently making love, making out, or just lying together, it was peaceful and soothing, as they waited for news from Sam.

On the afternoon of the second day, Sam called to say he would be there in half an hour. Dean could sense he had something important to tell them, from the tone of his voice, but he didn’t say anything to Angel about that. There was no point in agitating him prematurely, was there?

When the door cam buzzed, Dean was surprised to see Eileen waiting to be let in along with Sam, especially as she had only been there that morning. Dean could only assume that Sam asked her to accompany him for moral support, given her already-established connection with Angel.

"Heya, Sammy. You got any news?" Dean asked, the moment Sam was through the door.

“I have,” Sam said, before turning to Angel. “Hey, Angel. I think we should sit down for this. Is that okay?”

Angel nodded and seated himself in the middle of the sofa, flanked on either side by Dean and Eileen. She reached over and patted his hand, as Sam pulled the chair closer, then sat down as well.

He’d taken a clear plastic bag from his coat pocket, and he put it down carefully on the table, though Dean couldn’t see what it contained. “I knew that Chuck was going to visit one of the homeless shelters, so I waited until he left, then went inside his residence behind the church. What I found was chilling; he’s definitely our man.”

Dean moved closer to Angel, and waited patiently for Sam to explain.

“There was a room in the basement, containing evidence of… of experiments. It was gruesome… body parts in jars, photographs of his work. Syringes, chains and handcuffs...” Sam glanced at Angel and looked quite sick all of a sudden, and Dean rushed to the kitchen to get him a glass of water.

“There were notebooks containing a language I haven’t seen before. And some in English, that - honestly - could only be described as deranged,” Sam continued after taking a drink. “Chuck seems to think that he’s god, and is trying to create an army of angels. Fuck knows how many others he’s done this to.”

_How fucked up is this?_

“He didn’t stop at attaching wings to his victims either; he injected them with something too. Something he calls grace.” Sam sighed, and shook his head sadly.

Dean was in shock. He could have guessed that what Sam found wasn’t going to be pleasant, but this was just messed up. How the fuck had Chuck managed to persuade everyone that he was a kind, benevolent man of god, when behind closed doors he was a dangerous psychopath?

Now that the police were involved in the case, Dean realised he wasn’t going to get to kill Chuck like he wanted, but he could assist Sam with one small aspect of it, at least. Getting up and going to the kitchen, he said, “I think I can help you with that language you don’t recognise.” He found the piece of paper he was looking for, then brought it back to the living room and placed it on the table. "This it?”

Sam nodded his head. “Yes. What is it?”

“Enochian. Apparently some guy in the sixteenth century said it was revealed to him by angels, but most people think he invented it himself.”

Sam picked the piece of paper up and examined it carefully. “Where did you get this?”

“Angel wrote it. Soon after I found him, I asked him to write his name, and this was the result. It says angel.” Dean glanced at Angel then, and saw that he looked shell shocked.

He sat back down next to Angel, took his hand, and squeezed it. “Does… do you remember anything?”

Signing ‘yes’, Angel nodded. ‘Chuck hurt me’.

“I found something else.” Sam picked up the bag and held it out to show Angel. “There were burned documents… all belonging to Chuck’s victims, I’m sure. This is a driver’s licence, with your picture on it. And your name.”

Dean found he was holding his breath all of a sudden. This was momentous. 

“Castiel Novak. That’s your name,” Sam said, softly. “Castiel.”

_Castiel._

Dean turned to Angel… _Castiel,_ and held out his hand. “Castiel, huh? Mind if I call you Cas?”

Cas managed a smile at that, and nodded his head as they shook hands.

“Fuck, Sammy, we can’t thank you enough for this.” Dean got up once more, and went over to his brother and hugged him. “You didn’t have to do this after I kept Angel a secret for so long, but you really came through.” He knew he was veering into chick flick territory, but he was feeling pretty emotional after learning the truth. 

_Fuck knows what effect this is having on Angel._

Sam hugged him back, and Dean was astonished to discover that Angel had come over and was putting his arms around them both too.

_Note to self… his name is Castiel, not Angel._

When Eileen joined in, Dean laughed and let go of his brother. “So what happens now? You gonna go back and arrest the sonovabitch?” he asked as they took their seats once again.

“I’ll have to go to my chief of police, and tell her what I found. I’m gonna say I got an anonymous tip-off, and thought I should check it out first. I’ll get an ass kicking for going in alone, but I don’t think she’ll go any further than that. Jody’s good people; she’ll understand.”

“Awesome. You’ll let us know when you’ve got him?”

“Yes. And A… Castiel will need to make a statement as soon as possible.”

“If he remembers anything.” Dean looked at Cas, and wondered how much of it was coming back to him.

Cas was staring straight ahead, and for a few moments it appeared almost as if he was in a catatonic state. His eyes were fixed on an invisible spot, and even when Dean waved his hand in front of him, there was no reaction. Then, just as Dean was starting to worry that this whole experience had been too much for him, Cas snapped out of it.

Turning to Eileen, he signed, ‘I remember everything’.

It was like a switch had been flipped, as Cas relayed the entire story to Eileen, with Dean and Sam trying to keep up as she grabbed a pen and paper, and wrote his words down.

_  
  
_

_I moved here from Pontiac, Illinois, in the fall of twenty forty-one. My brother, Jimmy… my twin brother… had died, and I couldn’t stay where he should have been. It was too painful. I left everything behind me… including the rest of my family, and I ran away._

_At first, I craved the loneliness of a new city. I hid myself away most of the time, earning my living helping people with technical issues, without ever having to meet any of them. But then I started to miss human interaction, so when I saw his - Chuck’s - notice on the church door, I thought I had found someone who cared._

_  
  
_

In need of spiritual comfort or guidance?

We are here to help

All welcome 

Come on in and be a part of our family.

_  
  
_

_Chuck was kind and caring. He asked about my life, and family, and was very sympathetic regarding my loss. He invited me to dinner often, always asking questions, until one day it seemed he had learned all he needed to know. He thought that no one would miss me if I disappeared, and he was right._

_That day, I arrived at his house, and everything had changed… his demeanour was different, and I was scared. He told me he had work for me to do; that I was a part of his plan. I tried to leave, but he overpowered me easily and I fell unconscious; I believe I was drugged._

_When I awoke, I was chained to the wall, and I couldn’t move. He told me he was the new God, and I was in Heaven, but really, I was in Hell. It was… I couldn’t stop him. I was beaten if I spoke or wrote English, and sometimes he would refuse to feed me. I was to become one of his angels and had to speak only Enochian. He gave me wings and put grace in my blood; it hurt so much, but if I cried out, I was punished._

_Sometimes he would make me stand under freezing water, or scalding water, for hours. I had a crack in my chassis that needed correcting, but I tried so hard to be obedient. He told me my name was Emmanuel, and after a while I believed it._

_I forgot myself. I had to do as I was told, or suffer; so I tried to follow his instructions, I really did._

_I was only saved when he left the door open, and I escaped and flew to freedom. But my wings didn’t carry me, and I fell; but it was my fall that saved me. Dean found me in that alleyway, and at last I was rescued._

__


	8. Chapter 8

Cas’s statement had rocked Dean to his core. Although he had suspected the physical and emotional abuse, discovering the awful truth was almost more painful than he could bear. Chuck taking advantage of an emotionally vulnerable man, and pretending to offer him comfort, all while plotting his abduction… Dean was full of rage at the very thought of it. All that time Cas was held against his will - being tortured - nearly two years! No wonder he was so broken when Dean found him.

There was also the twisted reasoning for Chuck’s treatment of Cas… _What the actual fuck?_ It made sense insofar as it explained the wings, and the 'grace' he was injected with explained the memory loss and the glowing, but it also made no sense at all. Surely Chuck had to know that he wasn’t actually making angels? He couldn’t be that far gone that he no longer recognised reality, could he?

Dean was torn between wanting to understand Cas’s story, in order to be able to empathise better, and not wanting to think about it too hard because it really fucking hurt. And then there was the whole thing about Cas losing his twin brother, which was unbelievably tragic, and because of the way Chuck had messed with his memories seemed to be fresher in his mind than would be expected after so much time had passed. Dean didn’t want to imagine what any of that felt like. He mentioned other family, though… Now, that was very interesting. Very interesting indeed.

There was one thing, however, that he really had to know. 

They were lying in bed naked later that night, holding each other, and Dean was absent-mindedly trailing his fingers up and down Cas’s arm. He softly nipped at Cas’s lips, before pulling back, and gazing into his eyes. They weren’t as blue as they had been, but some colour had returned. 

“Cas, why were you okay with me calling you Angel? After all you went through, I don’t understand why that name didn’t traumatise you.”

Dean had realised that, despite no longer feeling scared to speak, Cas still found it hard sometimes, so he'd placed a notebook and pen by the bed. Cas reached over to pick it up, and wrote something down, then handed it to Dean.

_Emmanuel was the name he called me, not angel. You’re the only one who calls me that._

Dean was about to respond, but was stopped from doing so by the sound of Cas’s voice.

“I like the way you say angel.”

Oh… _ohhhh._ “You do, do you?”

Cas nodded, as Dean rolled him onto his back, and straddled his hips.

"Angel." Dean kissed the word into his neck.

"Angel." He trailed the word over his nipple.

"Angel." Nibbled it above his navel.

"Angel." He planted a kiss on the head of Cas's cock, before wrapping his lips around it and swallowing him down. 

Cas let out a sound that was somewhere between a shout and a groan, and he bucked up into Dean's mouth.

Cas was bigger than a lot of guys, so that sudden movement almost made Dean choke. However, he wasn't going to let a little (big) thing like that deter him from his mission. 

Pulling off a little, he swirled his tongue around the head, then took most of it back in again.

"Dean," Cas whispered, and Dean was suddenly torn between wanting to suck Cas's dick until he came down his throat, and really needing to kiss him. If Cas liked hearing Dean say Angel, surely that could be nothing compared to the soaring of Dean's heart when Cas said his name.

_Was this love?_ Should he even be thinking about such a question after only knowing Cas for a few weeks? Whatever it was, Dean knew one thing - he couldn't imagine his life anymore without Cas in it. 

Determined to show Cas just how much he _lo…_ cared about him, Dean began to bob his head with enthusiasm. He would kiss him later. His hands got in on the action too; fondling Cas's balls, and stroking the part of his cock that wouldn't quite fit in Dean's mouth. 

Cas ran his hands through Dean's hair, and spread his legs, all the while making the most sinful noises. Dean didn't let up for one second, anticipating that moment when Cas would let go and flood his mouth with the proof of his arousal. A few more bobs of his head and flicks with his tongue, and Cas did just that; throwing his head back and making unintelligible noises until he was spent.

After he’d swallowed it all down, Dean crawled his way back up Cas’s body, and kissed him lazily. “Angel,” he added, one more time. 

Cas flipped him over, giving him a look that wasn’t angelic at all, before working his way slowly down Dean’s body in order to return the favour. 

  
_Oh yeah._ Couldn’t they just stay like this forever?

Dean was up before Cas - another bad nightmare had given them both a poor night’s sleep - but despite the tiredness, there was something he wanted to do before Cas awoke. He’d mentioned ‘the rest of my family’ in his statement, and Dean was going to try his hardest to find them. 

He had a last name, a location, and a computer, and within half an hour, he had found two relatives; Gabriel and Claire Novak. They had both made posts on the internet, looking for their brother/uncle Castiel Novak, who had gone missing, so now all Dean needed to do was to contact them and tell them that Cas was with him, and he was safe.

How much should he tell them though? Should he speak to Cas first, in case he didn’t want to see them? It was a dilemma, which lasted all of a minute, while Dean typed out a message to Gabriel.

  
  


**Hi. You don’t know me, but**

**I think I’ve found your brother**

**Castiel. He’s been through an**

**ordeal, but he’s safe now. I’ll**

**explain more when I hear back**

**from you.**

**Dean Winchester**

  
  


He pressed send, and waited for what seemed like an eternity, but was actually more like thirty seconds. When the reply came, Dean practically jumped out of his seat, and he read it eagerly.

  
  


**Dean, I hope you’re on the level,**

**because I’ve had too many false**

**leads. Can you prove it’s Castiel?**

**Gabriel Novak**

  
  


Dean felt a wave of sadness at the thought of Cas’s family looking for him, and being lied to about his whereabouts. Maybe it was Chuck who’d given them the runaround; Dean found himself suddenly seething with anger at the very thought. Thankfully, he had something more important to focus on though, like how to prove that it was Castiel, and that he wasn’t trying to cause Gabriel more grief. A photograph?

At that moment, Cas came out of the bedroom, yawning, a huge smile breaking out on his face at the sight of Dean.

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean said, patting the seat next to him. “I’ve got something to show you.”

Cas made a quick visit to the bathroom, then when he reappeared, he joined Dean on the sofa and gazed at him expectantly.

Dean took a deep breath, before speaking. “Okay, I hope this isn’t gonna piss you off, but yesterday you said you had other family, and… I decided to search for them. I found them, Cas. Gabriel and Claire.”

Cas looked the opposite of pissed off, in fact, he was positively beaming. He leaned into Dean’s personal space, and tapped the computer before signing, ‘show me’.

Dean scrolled through to find his message, then handed it to Cas, who read that and Gabriel’s message multiple times before turning back to Dean. His eyes were watering, and so were Dean’s, if he was being honest.

“I could call him? Let him see you on the screen?”

Cas nodded, and self-consciously ran his hand through his hair. 

“You look fine, Cas, but Gabriel isn’t gonna care what you look like. He’s just gonna be glad it’s you.”

Cas nodded and smiled, then tapped the computer again, as if to say ‘get on with it’. Dean chuckled, then typed out another message.

  
  


**I can prove it's Castiel. This is my**

**number, we’re waiting to hear**

**from you.**

**Dean 555-7067**

  
  


Almost as soon as Dean pressed send, the computer started buzzing with an incoming call. He gave Cas a quick peck on the lips, then clicked on the call answer button. The concerned, and somewhat sceptical face of a light brown-haired man, who looked a couple of years older than Cas, appeared on the screen.

“Gabriel?” Dean asked, needlessly. “I’m Dean, and here’s Cas.”

He tilted the screen so that only Cas’s face could be seen, and he heard a gasp and a sniff on the other end. 

“Cas? Cassie? Where have you been? What happened to you? We tried so hard to find you; I-I was worried you might’ve done something… taken your own life.”

Dean moved the screen so Gabriel could see both of them, before replying. “So, Cas doesn’t really speak. Like I said, he’s been through an ordeal, and he’s-”

“What do you mean he doesn’t speak?” Gabriel interrupted. “Was he injured? Has he lost his voice?”

“Nah, nothing like that. I mean, he was injured, but not there. Shit… this isn’t easy to explain.”

“Well, maybe you need to try harder, _Dean._ I swear to god, if you’ve hurt him-”

Castiel grabbed the screen from Dean’s hands and glared at his brother. He didn’t say a word, but Gabriel seemed to get the message loud and clear, and when he handed it back, Gabriel apologised immediately.

“Of course you didn’t hurt Cas… sorry, man. It’s just hard to know who to trust anymore.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it; I get where you’re coming from. If anyone hurt my brother, I’d kill ‘em.”

Gabriel huffed a laugh, and stared at Cas again. “So, where’s he been? What happened to him? We’d almost given up hope of seeing him again.”

“Oh, man, that’s a long fucking story, and I don’t think I should try telling it over the phone. Can you come here? He’d love to see you in person.” Dean looked at Cas for confirmation, and Cas nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes,” Cas said, and Gabriel looked confused.

“You said he doesn’t speak. I just heard him.”

“I said ‘doesn’t really speak’. He does say the occasional word. Anyway, can you come here?”

“I dunno. Where exactly is ‘here’?”

“Lawrence, Kansas.”

Dean watched Gabriel type something into his screen, then read the information he needed. 

“It’s gonna be a long drive; about twelve hours. But, sure. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

Dean was pretty certain that this meant Claire would be coming too. _Awesome._ “Call me when you’re close, ‘k?”

“You got it. And Dean… thank you.”

Embarrassed, Dean waved away Gabriel’s thanks and ended the call, then sent a message containing his address. He would need to warn them about Cas’s wings before they saw him, but rather than upset them before their long journey, he would intercept them before they got to the apartment. He just hoped they wouldn’t freak out and reject Cas. It wouldn’t be long before he found out either way.

Later that same day, Dean received another message from Gabriel to tell him that they were on their way. They would stop overnight at a motel, and arrive in the early afternoon. When Dean told Cas the news, Cas kissed him hard, pushed him up against the wall, and showed him just how much he appreciated what he'd done for him. Obviously, Dean hadn't done it for any reason other than caring about Cas, but damn… it was nice to have his efforts appreciated.

A little before one the following afternoon, Dean received another message from Gabriel to say that they would be there in about twenty minutes. He and Cas had both been on tenterhooks all morning, and now Cas's excitement seemed to be reaching fever pitch. 

They hadn't heard anything more from Sam regarding Chuck - even Eileen didn't know anything - but thankfully, Cas's family's imminent arrival was a good distraction. 

As the time drew nearer, Dean could tell that Cas was becoming more and more anxious about his wings, as evidenced by his constant attempts to fold them behind his back.

Dean pulled Cas into his arms, and kissed the top of his head. "I'm gonna tell them before they see you, 'k? And I'm sure they won't care about them."

"Okay." Cas nodded, and held Dean tighter.

The buzz of the door cam made them both jump, and Dean let go of him. "Stay here, I'll be back in a couple of minutes." 

He nodded at Cas for confirmation, then once he'd got a nod in reply, he clicked the button to let them into the building, and went out to wait by the elevator. 

When it arrived on his floor, Dean was faced with Gabriel, who was noticeably shorter than Cas, and a teenage girl with golden hair in braids, and a scowl on her face that said 'don't mess with me'.

Dean waited until they stepped out, then shook Gabriel's hand warmly. "Thanks for coming. Cas is so damn excited."

"Yeah, us too," Gabriel said, nudging Claire for a response. "This is Claire, my niece."

"Hi, Claire." Dean held his hand out to her, but she just stared at him, in a way that reminded him of Cas; although Cas was generally more smiley.

_Okay… awkward._

Thankfully, Gabriel was on hand to diffuse the situation with some sarcasm. “Claire is very grateful to you too. She’s so overcome with emotion, she doesn’t know what to say.”

Claire rolled her eyes, and Dean tried not to smirk. 

“So, are you gonna take us to him?” Gabriel asked, anxiety beginning to creep into his voice as Dean took a deep breath. He’d been going over this moment in his head, but now that it was here, it was proving even more difficult than he’d imagined.

“Yeah, I just… I need to tell you something first.”

“Are you stalling?” Gabriel narrowed his eyes, and looked at Dean with suspicion. “What’s going on? I don’t… _Cas?!!_ ” Gabriel shouted his brother’s name, and Dean grabbed him by the arm.

“Don’t do that, man. No one knows he’s here.”

“Tell us where he is, old man… before we kick your ass.” Claire glowered at him, before shoving past him and heading in the direction of the apartment.

Dean was still smarting from the ‘old man’ comment, but he didn’t react to it. “He’s got wings,” he blurted out, stopping Claire in her tracks.

They both stared at him, as if they were waiting for the punchline to a bad joke.

“I don’t get it,” Gabriel said, eventually. “I like a good joke, but that just wasn’t funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be, believe me.” Dean shook his head; this was not going well. “We need to get inside before he starts thinking you don’t wanna see him. I’ll explain everything then, you have my word. I just wanted to give you a heads up, so it wasn’t too much of a shock.”

Gabriel looked like he was having trouble believing any of this, but he nodded anyway, and as Dean gestured for them to follow, they fell into step behind him.

They reached the apartment, but Dean stopped before putting the key in the lock. “One more thing... none of this was Cas’s choice. This was done _to_ him, but he’s learning to live with it. Okay?”

They both nodded solemnly, then Dean opened the door and they went inside, where Cas was standing anxiously in the middle of the room. The conflicting emotions on his face at the sight of his family were too much for Dean to bear, and he found that he was unable to stop himself from crying.

Dean could tell that Gabriel was the kind of guy who preferred to be lighthearted and jokey - he’d even said as much when they were outside - but despite the smile on his face at seeing his long-lost brother, he couldn’t stop his lip from trembling as the tears started falling. The smile morphed into something else, and his features seemed to be battling between sorrow and joy. 

“Cas?” he said disbelieving, before they practically launched themselves into each other’s arms. Claire threw herself into the hug a second later, and in between the sniffling and watery laughter, Dean could hear Gabriel and Claire saying things like, “I can’t believe it’s really you,” and “We didn’t know if we’d ever see you again.”

As the three of them hugged each other fiercely, even Claire seemed overcome with emotion at the sight of her uncle… hmmm, Cas and Gabriel were both her uncles. How did that work?

As if hit with a lightning bolt of revelation, Dean metaphorically facepalmed himself. Obviously, her dad must have been Jimmy; it wasn’t that hard to work out, was it?

Dean hovered on the edge of the family reunion, waiting for the hugs and muffled crying to stop, and when it finally did, he pointed to the sofa. “Sit down, and I’ll tell you the whole story.”

They did as Dean instructed; then, after he’d grabbed a box of tissues and passed it around, he seated himself in the chair, and began talking. “This is what I know, based on Cas’s police statement.”

Claire gave Cas a sad look, scooted a little closer to him, and put her head on his shoulder. Dean had to bite his tongue to stop himself from making a remark about her not being as tough as she pretended, but frankly, the way she became so protective of Cas was too adorable.

“Cas deliberately hid himself away from the world when he moved here, because… well, of course you know why.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel breathed out sadly, as Claire looked down at the floor. 

“He was alone for a long time,” Dean continued, “but after a while he began to miss human company. He started going out into the world, and discovered a church that offered spiritual help.”

He could feel the anger beginning to boil inside him thinking about Chuck, but he had to keep it together for Cas.

“The pastor seemed friendly and welcoming, and Cas, he… he thought he cared about him, but, b…” Dean wiped a tear away angrily. Maybe it wasn’t anger he was feeling, but heartbreak. _Goddammit!_

Dean shook his head, and tried again. “But he didn’t care at all… He was grooming Cas, ‘cause he wanted him for… f-for,” _fucking hell, get a grip,_ “he wanted to turn Cas into an angel. Man, that piece of shit was so fucked up… sorry, Claire. He thought he was god, and he hurt Cas. Tortured him. Locked him away, made him speak some bullshit angel language, messed with his memories.”

Gabriel and Claire’s expressions had turned murderous, and Dean couldn’t blame them. This story was all sorts of fucked up.

“Chuck kept him captive for nearly two years, until Cas found a way to escape, and that’s when I found him. He was hurt and scared, but I’ve been looking after him.” Dean glanced at Cas then, and as they gazed at each other, a charged moment passed between them. Cas didn’t speak a word, but his eyes conveyed everything he wanted to say… gratitude, fondness, and something that Dean interpreted as Cas having some seriously inappropriate thoughts, considering they had visitors. It was probably just as well that Gabriel spoke up, breaking them out of their staring match.

“Taking in a stranger is more than most people would do… You seem like a very kind man, Dean Winchester.” Gabriel smiled, then asked, “How long has he been here?”

“Five… six weeks? I’m not s-”

“And you only just decided to tell us?” Claire interrupted. “Great… really great.”

“I only found out Cas’s name two days ago,” Dean snapped. “I would’ve told you earlier if I’d known… of course, I would.”

Claire looked sheepish, and held up her hand in surrender. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know. My sister-in-law, Eileen, she’s been teaching Cas sign language, but he still couldn’t remember anything. Not until we saw the bastard, anyway. Then it started to come back to him, and my brother found Cas's driver's licence, and, well… I found you two.”

Gabriel jumped up, and started pacing the room. “This… Chuck. Where can I find him?”

“They’re gonna arrest him. They’ve got enough evidence to lock him up for a long time.”

“Arrest?” Gabriel huffed. “I wanna kill him.”

“That makes two of us… no, three. Actually, four.”

Cas held up his hand, indicating that it should be five, and Dean couldn’t help laughing; it was good to see his sense of humour come out, especially after such a serious conversation.

Dean realised that he’d been so determined to get the explanation of what happened to Cas out of the way, he hadn’t offered his guests anything to drink. He was determined to put that right, so he stood up, and headed off to the kitchen. "I'll put some coffee on."

“Thanks,” Gabriel called, shooting him a thumbs up.

Just before he disappeared into the kitchen, he heard Claire say, “Your wings are kinda cool,” and it warmed him inside. Knowing that Cas’s family were okay with him was a huge relief.

As he switched the coffee machine on, Dean wondered if Claire would prefer something different to drink. When he walked back out to the living room, however, he heard something that caused him to stop dead, the words dying in his throat.

“Are you gonna come back home with us, Uncle Castiel?” Claire’s question was well-meant, and sincere, but it ripped Dean’s heart in two.

_Shit._ He should have seen this coming; why wouldn’t Cas’s family want him back? He wanted to throw up… or was he going to cry instead? Every fibre of his being was urging him to beg Cas to stay; to shout ‘don’t go’. But he couldn’t do that, could he? Cas had had more than enough decisions taken away from him, so despite what he wanted, Dean would have to stay quiet.

But what if Cas said yes to Claire because Dean didn’t ask him to stay? Maybe he was waiting for Dean to give him a clue. _Fuck… this was horrible._

Dean stood rooted to the spot, staring at Cas and willing him to make the right decision, but bracing himself for the worst. If Cas wanted to go, who was Dean to stop him? It was time Dean faced facts, and accepted that Cas could do b-

Cas stared back at Dean for what felt like hours, eyes boring into Dean’s soul, until finally, “I want to stay here,” he said decisively. Dean was certain he was going to cry now, as Gabriel and Claire looked between them, understanding of the situation beginning to dawn on their faces.

Gabriel looked far from happy about it, though; in fact, he looked decidedly pissed. “Castiel, what’s going on between you and Dean? Did he take advantage of you?” Then, without giving Cas a chance to respond, he turned to Dean and asked, “Did you take advantage of my brother?”

“No... no. It wasn’t like th-“ Dean started, but Gabriel interrupted him.

“You’ve gotten all nice and cosy with each other, but you’ve only known Castiel’s name for two days? Something about this doesn’t feel right, _Dean._ ” There was a real edge to his voice now.

Thankfully, Cas clearly wasn’t about to let Gabriel accuse Dean of anything so heinous, and he slammed his hands down on the table, before rushing to the bedroom to fetch the pen and a piece of paper. Seconds later, he came straight back into the room, writing frantically, with a scowl on his face. Gabriel obviously knew better than to say anything more without reading what Cas had to say, so they all sat in an awkward silence until he was done.

When he’d finished writing, Cas furiously thrust his note into Gabriel’s hand, and as he read, his expression turned from angry to apologetic. He looked back over to Dean, and meekly offered an apology. “Sorry man, I... um, jumped to conclusions.”

Claire moved to take the paper from him, but he grimaced and snatched it out of her reach. “It’s not... you don’t need to read this.”

He was practically blushing, and Dean figured that Cas must have gone into some detail about how he’d actually made the first move, and seduced Dean. Maybe Gabriel deserved that for casting aspersions without knowing the facts; Dean would really like to know how Cas had described their relationship, though.

“Well, if you’re happy, and you’re sure Dean will treat you right, then that’s okay with me... us,” Gabriel conceded, offering a tentative smile to Cas, then Dean.

“I am,” Cas replied, going over to Dean and taking hold of his hand.

Dean barely heard anything else, because he was too busy beaming at Cas. He knew his happiness was written all over his face, and he didn’t care. He’d shout it from the fucking rooftops if it meant Cas wouldn’t ever leave him.

“Okay then.” Gabriel visibly relaxed, and smirked at his brother. “I guess this changes everything.”

“Yes,” Cas replied, as he started shining again, for the first time since they’d run into Chuck.

Dean wanted to pull Cas into his arms, and kiss him senseless, but not in front of his brother and niece… that would be wrong. There would be plenty of time for that later.

Once things had settled down, Dean saw Claire peering at Colonel on his bed in the corner.

“You wanna play with him?” Dean asked, going over to switch him on.

“Yes, please,” Claire replied, letting her inner child out as if it had been hidden away for too long.

Dean ran through the controls with her, then left them to play happily, while Gabriel told Dean and Cas that they were planning on staying in the area for a couple of days, and asked if they could visit some more.

“Sure, you’re always welcome,” Dean replied, enthusiastically. “And if you come by early enough, Cas’ll make you his famous bacon and eggs.”

Cas made the signs for ‘bacon’ and ‘egg’, and Gabriel watched him with fascination.

“Nice one, baby bro. If you can cook as well as you can sign, count us in.” Gabriel winked, and patted Cas’s shoulder.

“Just don’t make it too early, okay? Cas still has nightmares.” Dean’s comment brought a frown to Gabriel’s face, but he didn’t remark on it.

“Is nine okay?” he asked, instead.

“Sounds good to me.” Dean smiled. This was nice… great, even. Once Chuck was locked up, everything would be perfect.

“We found your last known address, you know?” Gabriel said, suddenly. “We contacted the owner of the building, and they told us you’d just packed up and moved. Your rent was all paid up, and as far as they were concerned, there was nothing to worry about.”

“Motherfucker!” Dean shouted. “That Chuck’s a devious sonovabitch. No one’s gonna look for someone who isn’t missing, are they?”

“I really would like to get my hands on him,” Gabriel growled, and Claire looked up from where she was playing with Colonel.

“Me first,” she said, and the look on her face made Dean decide that he never wanted to get on her wrong side. 

Cas had been watching this exchange unfold, and Dean could see that he was thinking about something. Eventually he asked, “My things?”

It took Dean a moment to work out what Cas meant, but finally he realised that Cas was wondering what Chuck had done with his belongings. _Hmmm… good question._ “I dunno, Cas. It’s just one of the many things I wanna speak to him about if I ever get the chance.”

This all got Dean wondering again about how things were going with Sam, and Chuck's arrest. Surely some progress must have been made by now. 

Coincidentally, at that exact moment a call from Sam came through on Dean's computer. Dean pressed the call answer button, and Sam's face appeared on the screen. "Hiya, Sammy."

"Hello, Dean." Sam had his serious face on, but Dean couldn't tell if the news he had to impart was good or bad. "Can I come over?"

"Yeah, and you can meet Cas's family. They're here for a visit." Dean tilted the screen to reveal Gabriel, then Claire, as he introduced everyone.

There was a little bit of awkward waving between them all, then Sam hung up after promising that he would be there in about twenty minutes. 

When he arrived at the apartment, Dean could tell instantly that something was wrong; he was fidgety, and when he sat down, he perched nervously on the edge of the seat.

"Cas, I… I'm sorry," he started. "We went to Chuck's house, to arrest him, but… he's gone. It seems he realised we were onto him, and he’s run for the hills. Vanished.”

“Fuck’s sake… really?” Dean jumped up and paced around the room. “He can’t just get away with what he’s done, Sam. Please tell me you’re still looking for him?”

“We’ve circulated a picture of him… issued an APB. We’ll get him; I promise you.”

Dean couldn’t bear the thought of Chuck evading justice, and from the disappointed look on Cas’s face, neither could he. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything he could do, other than wait for him to be found and ensure he kept Cas safe. Obviously Chuck didn’t have a clue that Cas was here with Dean, but just in case he did, Dean was going to be extra careful.

Sam went back to work a few minutes later, promising to keep them updated on any developments, and Gabriel and Claire left soon after that. They would return in the morning for Cas's bacon and eggs, and for more family bonding time as well.

Dean and Cas settled down on the sofa for the evening, ready to play Dagon's Dragons; however, despite their best intentions, they couldn't keep their hands off one another. Half an hour later, Dean found himself stripped naked, on all fours, with Cas's tongue gently probing his entrance.

It was amazing how Cas managed to… _fuck!!! Right there…_ get him where he wanted him so… _Jesus!!!_

Cas had worked in a finger alongside his tongue, and together they were doing incredible things to his prostate. When Cas reached around and gripped his cock, Dean laid his head down on the sofa and groaned. 

He wanted Cas to fuck him, but he also didn't want him to stop doing… _that._ It seemed that Cas had made the decision for him anyway, and instead of slowing down, he added another finger and sped up his movements. 

_Oh, yeah,_ he was too close to stop now. Pushing back against Cas’s skillful digits, and then forward into the tight warmth of his other hand, he felt that moment approaching. With a sincere appreciation of the fact that Cas had thought to cover the sofa with a shirt, he came, trembling and gasping. 

Cas didn’t let up; working Dean through it until he started to become over-sensitive, then releasing him. Dean flopped down on the sofa while Cas disappeared into the bathroom to rinse his mouth and grab a washcloth, then he returned and cleaned him up.

When he’d disposed of the washcloth, Cas laid down next to Dean and brushed the hair from his forehead. Unlike Dean, Cas was still wearing his boxers. 

Dean licked his palm then slipped his hand inside, wrapping his fingers around Cas’s cock, but not stroking. “So… you’re gonna stay here with me?”

“Yes.” Cas smiled, and Dean stroked his cock once, then stopped.

“I can’t think why.” Dean stroked him again.

“You, y-you’re…” Cas hissed when Dean’s hand moved again.

“I’m what,” Dean whispered.

_Stroke._

Cas sighed. “You’re… _fuck!”_

_Stroke._

That was the first time Dean had heard Cas swear, and he really liked it. He wanted to hear it again.

“I’m fuck, huh? What else am I?”

_Stroke._

Cas was glowing now. “Hot-t-t.”

_Stroke… stroke._

“Takes one to know one.” Dean caressed Cas’s wing with his other hand.

_Stroke, stroke._

_“Ohhhh.”_ Cas’s breathing was becoming laboured, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

_Stroke, stroke, stroke..._

Dean ran one hand over Cas’s feathers, and jacked him faster as he watched him fall apart.

“D-Dean,” Cas groaned. “I’m…” His eyes shone a brilliant blue, and his orgasm shuddered through him, coating the inside of his underwear.

“We’re gonna need that washcloth back,” Dean quipped, when Cas’s breathing slowed once again. “And for the record, I’m ecstatic that you’re staying.”

“Me too.” Cas smiled sleepily, and his eyes began to drift closed.

“Uh uh.” Dean tapped Cas on the shoulder. “You’re not falling asleep here; not when there’s a perfectly good bed in the other room. Move your ass, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find a way of putting Cas's note to Gabriel into the story, so eyesofatragedy67 suggested that I put it here as a note. Dean was right; it was explicit, and extremely blunt:
> 
> _Gabriel! How dare you accuse Dean of taking advantage of me. For your information, it was the exact opposite. I seduced him, and then I fucked him. He held back for weeks, precisely because he didn’t want to take advantage of me, so if you don’t want me to kick your ass, you need to apologise to him, right now._


	9. Chapter 9

As soon as Gabriel and Claire arrived the next morning, Claire asked if she could help Cas in the kitchen. Cas accepted her offer gratefully, so Dean and Gabriel left them to their cooking, and sat themselves on the sofa with their coffees.

Gabriel watched his brother and niece in the kitchen for a few moments, before turning to Dean. "Claire was only ten when Castiel moved away, but she never forgot about him, or stopped believing he would return to us one day. Her mom also disappeared after Jimmy died - in a spiritual sense, that is - so Claire and I have grown closer. But Cassie was always so good with her, and losing him felt like a double blow."

"She's been through a lot, hasn't she?" Dean sighed, and followed Gabriel's gaze. "She's lucky to have you." 

"Nah, I'm lucky to have her," Gabriel smiled.

Dean knew that Gabriel wasn’t trying to make him feel bad about Cas’s decision to stay with him, but he couldn’t help feeling a pang of guilt, nevertheless. “I promise, I’m gonna do everything I can to keep the three of you in touch with each other.”

“Thanks, Dean, I appreciate it. And so does Claire.” He hesitated for a moment, before adding, “Sorry again about that misunderstanding yesterday.”

“Ah, it’s no biggie,” Dean said, watching Cas sign to his niece. She was giggling happily, and Dean knew that he had to help them see each other as often as possible. “Tell you what, I could do with a visit to the farmers' market. How would you feel if I left the three of you alone for some family bonding after breakfast?”

“That sounds great. We’ll talk about you behind your back.” Gabriel gave Dean a wink and a grin, and Dean laughed. He couldn’t help but like this guy, and his quirky sense of humour.

While Cas and Claire finished preparing the food, Dean told Gabriel about his music, even playing him a few notes. Then the four of them ate together; Gabriel and Claire sharing family stories, and Dean joining in with tidbits about some of the things he got up to with Sam.

Cas didn’t contribute to the conversation, but he listened eagerly, and laughed heartily at some of the stories, especially the one about when Sam showed the school bully that he wasn’t someone to be messed with. Dean remembered how proud he’d been of his brother… and impressed, too. Sam had shown some unexpected combat skills, and no bully dared come near him after that.

After he and Gabriel had helped tidy up, Dean announced that he was heading out to the market. He wanted to get some vegetables, as well as some nice fresh bread, and made a mental note of some dishes he and Cas could cook together. 

It was a nice day for the time of year, and Dean decided he would walk rather than drive. He’d spent way too much time cooped up inside lately, and besides, he wasn’t exactly in a hurry. Also, Cas, Gabriel, and Claire would appreciate this time together; Dean was certain of that.

Dean enjoyed looking around the stalls and choosing the best produce, and by the time he set off back towards home, he was loaded down with vegetables, bread, and fruit. They were going to be super healthy if Dean had anything to do with it.

As he walked along the sidewalk, looking forward to getting back to his boyfriend, someone bumped into him, knocking the box he was carrying out of his arms. _What the fuck?_ He opened his mouth to give the douchebag a piece of his mind, but he quickly became aware of another guy behind him. As he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, he suddenly realised that this situation could actually be dangerous.

Glaring at the man who’d knocked into him, Dean lifted his chin defiantly. “What’s your game, buddy?” He was a black guy, smaller than Dean, and… _was that a flash of wings?_

Before Dean could get a better look, he noticed the guy glance past his shoulder, and then he was grabbed from behind and his arms were pinned to his side. He attempted to wriggle free, but the guy behind him dragged him into the nearest alleyway, the asshole who’d waylaid him following after.

Glaring at Dean, he said, “We know you have Castiel. We will not allow his rebellion to go unpunished; now he will atone. Through you."

_Oh, fuck…_ they were working for Chuck? Well, that explained the wings. He still didn’t know what they wanted with him though, but he was determined he wouldn’t give them anything. “Screw you,” he replied in a display of bravado. Unfortunately, this didn’t stop the asshat; instead, it seemed to enrage him. 

Dean saw a rush of electricity shoot through the guy's wings and was about to comment, when the brick wall rushed forward and smacked him in the face. He just had time to register that the world was going blurry, before everything went black.

A loud bang, like a heavy door being closed, filtered through to Dean, waking him from his sleep. When he fully came around, he had the mother of all headaches. That bastard had really done a number on him, and hadn’t even given him a chance to defend himself. 

He was lying face down on something hard and uncomfortable, and when he tried to lift himself up, he found that he could barely move. It seemed that his hands and feet were shackled to the… table? Not that moving was at all a good idea; raising his head made everything spin, and he felt nauseated. _Ugh!_

Dean knew he had to be either in the room in Chuck’s basement, or somewhere else Chuck had found to continue with his foul tortures, and he felt well and truly trapped. The thought of Cas having been held like this for such a long time gave him a feeling he didn’t think he’d ever experienced before; his stomach dropped, and he could swear that his heart actually hurt. 

_Fuck!_ Dean was going to kill Chuck, first chance he got.

As the minutes ticked by, Dean’s emotions veered between anger, sorrow, fear… What did Chuck want with him, anyway? Was he going to torture him? Try to give him wings? 

_Like hell he was going to! Dean would fucking kill him first… if the coward ever showed his face._

Eventually, Dean heard a door open and close, then footsteps, and finally Chuck was bending down and smiling at him.

“Well, this is an interesting situation we have here, isn’t it?” His voice was ridiculously calm, and Dean wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face.

“That’s not how I’d describe it,” Dean growled. “It’s not very fucking even, is it? Let me go and we’ll have a fair fight, and then we’ll see how _interesting_ it is.”

“Oh, Dean… Dean. I’m not going to fight you. I don’t want to damage that pretty face any further. You’re going to call Emmanuel… Castiel, and tell him that if he doesn’t want me to hurt you, he’ll come back to me and fulfil his destiny. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

“Fuck you!” Dean spat. “You’re not getting your hands on Cas ever again. You can do what you want to me, but leave him alone.”

Chuck picked up a knife, and _holy shit!_ Dean found he was suddenly terrified, as icy cold tendrils of fear ran down his spine. “You really don’t want to test me, _Dean.”_

“You can’t call him, anyway. He hasn’t got a computer,” Dean laughed, putting on a brave face to conceal how scared he really was.

“His brother has one though, doesn’t he? We’ll just call him.” Chuck held up Dean’s computer, and switched it on, grabbing Dean’s hand roughly and opening it with his fingerprint.

How the hell did Chuck know about Gabriel? How long had he been watching them? If Dean wasn’t boiling with rage, he would be freaking the fuck out about that.

Chuck had pulled up Gabriel’s number, and held it in front of Dean’s face, waiting for the call to be answered. His friendly face appeared on the screen, as his voice rang out, “Hey, Dean-o, where’ve you been? You get lost out there?”

As he spoke, his voice changed from cheeriness to concern; obviously noticing that something was very wrong. Dean was pretty sure that his forehead was bleeding, and his nose was bruised, and knowing Chuck, he was deliberately pointing the camera at the injuries. 

“Everything okay, Dean? W-where are you?” Gabriel asked.

Before Dean could answer, Chuck snatched the computer away, and smirked at it. “Dean’s with me. I’m taking very good care of him.”

“Chuck?” Gabriel asked, and Dean heard the gasp of horror from Cas in the background.

“Don’t listen to this asshat! I’ll be fine!” Dean shouted, earning a painful yank of the chain holding his left leg. “Sonovabitch!”

“Dean?” Cas’s voice came through the computer, and he sounded utterly distraught.

“Emmanuel, there you are. I’ve missed you,” Chuck said, smarmily. “I know you don’t want Dean to suffer, so I’m offering you a swap. You come back to where you’re supposed to be, and Dean doesn’t get hurt any more than he already has.”

“No, Cas! Don’t do it. I’m not worth it!” Dean shouted again, and Chuck laughed evilly.

“Awww, would you listen to that? He’s so self-sacrificing, isn’t he? What do you say, Emmanuel? You know this is where you belong.”

Dean couldn’t hear or see Cas’s response, but based on Chuck’s reaction, it was a ‘yes’. _Fuck it._

“Good boy. I will call again to arrange the swap.” Chuck ended the call, and laid the computer on the table, next to Dean.

“All of this sacrificing yourselves for each other is so melodramatic, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’ll show you melodramatic.” Dean said, rattling his chains futilely.

“No, you won’t. Now, I promised not to hurt you again, so I need you to drink this.” Chuck pressed a straw to Dean’s lips, and waited for Dean to drink the water from the bottle he was holding.

It was cool and refreshing, and Dean wished he didn’t want it so much. Still… he wouldn’t be much use if he was dehydrated, would he? 

“Good boy. Now, I’ll be back soon, to return you to your home. And please try not to soil yourself on my table; I need to keep it clean for my work.”

Chuck retreated, and Dean considered what he’d just implied. This table was where Chuck did his experiments, and if Dean pissed on it, it would be Cas lying in his mess. That had to be one of the most fucked up things he’d ever heard; Chuck was one devious motherfucker.

It wasn’t long at all - probably less than half an hour - when Chuck returned, full of self-congratulation. “Good news. You’re going home,” he said. “But first, I’m going to knock you out again; I don’t believe you’ll behave yourself.”

_Dammit!!_ Dean really didn’t want to get another smack on the head; it was still hurting like a sonovabitch from the first time. He was about to discover, however, that was not what Chuck had in mind.

Clearly in no mood for games, Chuck held the back of Dean’s head, and shoved a cloth in his face. Even with his bruised, swollen nose, Dean could smell sweet chemical fumes, that he knew had to be chloroform. He squirmed in an attempt to avoid it, but there was no escape.

"Sleep well."

His voice trailed off as Dean went under once more.

The second time Dean woke up, his head felt even worse - if that was possible - and he was shaking uncontrollably. He was desperately hoping that what had happened with Chuck had been a dream - or more accurately, a nightmare - but the grim expressions on the faces of Sam, Eileen, Gabriel, and Claire told him that it had been all too real.

All four of them were standing watching him, and as he opened his eyes, Sam crouched down to his eye level. 

“Dean… thank god.” He squeezed Dean’s hand, and attempted a smile.

"Cas?" Dean croaked, trying to sit up and immediately feeling like he was going to hurl. 

Gabriel shook his head sadly, as Claire burst into tears.

_Fuck!_ Fuck, fuck, fuck. “No… no. I told him not to… _goddammit!_ ” Dean managed to get himself into a sitting position, and started to heave. 

Sam rushed to get him a bowl, as Dean gazed down at the sofa and realised that everything had changed since last night, when he and Cas had made love on it. Would they ever get the opportunity to do that again? He could cry… but first he needed to vomit. 

Sam thrust a bowl under his face just in time, as his stomach emptied its contents. He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since breakfast, and he could see undigested bits of the meal Cas and Claire had made him. It was disgusting, and fucking painful, but there were many questions swirling around his mind, that helped to distract him.

What time was it, and how long had he been gone? How did they make the switch? Did anyone have any idea where that fucker was holding Cas? Did anyone have any painkillers? 

Unfortunately, he was unable to ask anything for quite a while, because his mouth was otherwise occupied, expelling a truly vile substance. For some reason, it made him think of _The Exorcist,_ and he began to wonder if he had been possessed by a demon.

Eventually, _thank fuck…_ his stomach started to settle down, and he picked up the glass of water Sam had brought him.

“Sip it,” Sam ordered, sitting down across from him.

Dean did as he was told, feeling the liquid as it cooled his throat. “What happened?” he asked, croakily.

“Chuck took Castiel.” Sam frowned, as he glanced at Gabriel.

“No… what happened? Tell me the whole thing.” Dean insisted.

“You were abducted by Chuck, and he called Gabriel using your device, to tell Castiel that if he came back, you wouldn’t be hurt.”

“I know all that. I want the details… times… places.”

Gabriel sat next to him, and took a deep breath. “You left here at, what… ten forty?”

Dean nodded, but instantly regretted it. _Note to self… nodding makes a headache worse._

“We were starting to wonder what was taking you so long, when you called… _Chuck_ called.” Gabriel suddenly looked murderous, as he checked something on his computer. “That was at twelve thirty-six. We called Sam right away, and while he was on his way here, Chuck called again. Twelve fifty-two. He told Castiel where they were supposed to meet - alone - but Cas wouldn’t tell us. He only cared about protecting you. He left before Sam even got here, and about ten minutes later… at one forty, your door cam buzzed, and we found you unconscious outside the building. You woke up about twenty minutes later.”

“We need to work out where he is; it can’t be too far away,” Dean said, looking from one face to another. “I guess you checked the church?”

“First place we looked,” Sam confirmed. “No sign of him… sorry.”

“Not your fault, Sammy. We’re gonna find him… We have to.” Dean needed to believe that, because the alternative was unacceptable. Using the remote control, he turned his screen on, and opened a map of the town. “I left the market at about eleven thirty, and I was walking for about ten minutes when they grabbed me… here.” Dean zoomed in on the exact spot he was attacked.

“It wasn’t Chuck, by the way. It was a couple of douchebags working for him, and at least one of them had wings.” Dean thought for a few moments, trying to work backwards, and sort out some kind of timeline in his head.

“Write this down, Sammy,” he said, watching as Sam pulled out his computer, and started tapping away on it.

“I’m ready,” he announced, looking expectantly at Dean.

“Those asshats grabbed me and knocked me unconscious at eleven forty. Chuck called Gabriel at twelve thirty-six. I was awake for around twenty minutes, before Chuck appeared, so by my reckoning, I must have been out for about thirty… thirty-five minutes. They had to drag me to the car, then out again at the other end. That must have taken at least ten minutes, so it’s gotta be somewhere inside this circle, yeah?”

Dean zoomed out, punched in some information, and a circle appeared on the map. “What do you think, Sammy? Do you agree with my calculations?”

“I think this is very helpful, but Dean… you need to rest. We’ll look at this in more detail tomorrow.” Sam grimaced, and stood up as if he was about to leave.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me right now.” With a bit of effort, Dean got to his feet, and glared at his brother. “We need to find him before Chuck wipes his memories again, and he… he does something-”

“Dean, please.” Sam tried reasoning with him, but it was obvious he knew it wouldn’t work. “We don’t even know where to look. Plus… there’s, um, something I haven’t told you.”

Sam looked uncomfortable, and Dean waited for him to explain himself, but nothing he could say was going to stop him from going after the man he loved… _Yes, it was true. He loved Cas._

“I didn’t just find Castiel’s name in those burned documents. There was paperwork showing that one of Chuck’s ‘angels’ is a violent criminal. It was pretty gruesome stuff… we-”

“Did you get a description? A name?” Dean interrupted.

“No, but-”

“Well, you don’t know if he’s even still with Chuck then, do you?” he interrupted again. “And if he is, that’s all the more reason to get Cas away from there. Sammy, we’ve gotta save him.” His puppy dog eyes weren’t as practised as Sam’s, but he gave them a try anyway, before walking closer to the screen, and examining the map carefully. There was an area that looked promising, and Dean was going, with or without Sam. He pointed at a group of empty warehouses near the river. 

“Here. We’re going here.”

“Fuck!” Sam exclaimed, before holding up a hand to Claire in apology. “This is a bad idea.”

“Well, I’m going, and you can’t stop me.” Dean said firmly, heading for the door.

“Me, too.” Gabriel joined him by the door, with a defiant look on his face.

Claire walked over to them, declaring, “You’re not going without me.”

“Alright, Pippin. Sit your ass back down,” Dean said. 

Claire pouted, and threw herself onto the sofa with a huff. Thankfully, Eileen sat down next to her, saying, “I wanted to come with you. I want to kill Chuck as much as anyone here, but I think it’s best if I stay here with Claire.”

“Thank you.” Sam went over to his wife and pulled her into a hug.

“You be careful,” she said. “And kill that fucker a second time, for me.”

Sam kissed the top of her head, then they made their way out of the apartment, and down to Sam’s vehicle. It was a horrible, douchey excuse for a car, but Dean was still feeling like shit, so for once he was in no mood to complain.

The journey was quiet and filled with tension, which increased as they drew nearer to their destination. Dean really hoped his hunch was right; he couldn’t bear it if they didn’t find Cas. 

By the time Sam parked a couple of streets away from the warehouses, the cloud cover had caused a gloomy darkness to descend, and a light rain was falling. “We’ll need to be quiet, okay? And try not to be seen.”

“Okay. Let’s go,” Dean said, impatiently.

Sam rolled his eyes, then began walking, with Dean and Gabriel falling into step behind him. They stalked slowly around the side of the first building, stopping occasionally to check that no one was watching their approach. When they reached the entrance, they crept inside, and Dean turned on his flashlight, sweeping it around the huge empty space. Nothing… zip… nada. They definitely weren’t there.

They crept along to the next warehouse, only to find another vast empty space, and then the third… still no sign of life. There was a set of lockers against one wall, and one of them seemed to be rattling and emanating a screeching noise. As they drew nearer to it, Dean nervously pointed the flashlight at the locker door, Sam yanked it open, and a terrified black cat leaped out. All three of them jumped, but Dean absolutely didn’t scream, and he had no idea why Sam and Gabriel were looking at him like that.

By the time they’d calmed down from that fright, and checked the fourth building, Dean was starting to feel disheartened. There were still three more, but he’d been sure they would have found something by now. He wasn’t about to give up, though, despite the disappointment. 

Walking towards the next building, however, something felt different. There was a flicker of movement near the entrance, and Dean swore he could hear muffled noises somewhere inside. Of course, it might not be Chuck; it could be other criminal activity, like a drug deal, or gun-running. But Dean was ninety nine percent certain they’d found the right place.

“You see that?” he whispered to Sam. “It’s them, I just know it.”

“Yes, and I’m calling in for backup right now. We stay here until they get here, okay?” Sam whispered back, barely audible.

Dean didn’t want to wait, but he couldn’t exactly rush them on his own, could he? Even if Gabriel was willing, two against god-knows-how-many was a terrible idea

Dean watched as Sam put his hand in his pocket, and began tapping his fingers rhythmically against the side of his computer. Eileen had helped Sam devise a way to alert the police station if an officer was in danger, using good old-fashioned morse code. Sam didn’t need to speak, or even take the computer out of his pocket, thus reducing the risk of attracting the attention of the bad guys.

When he was finished he nodded to Dean, bypassing the puzzled look from Gabriel. Dean couldn’t think of a way to explain what Sam had just done without saying it out loud, so he shrugged, before leaning against the wall to wait for the reinforcements.

Not much longer than five minutes had passed when Dean sensed the movement of someone close by. When he turned around, however, it wasn’t the sight of the extra police officers that greeted him, but the asshat who’d attacked him earlier. He’d managed to disarm Sam and was threatening him with his own gun, and there was a second guy who had hold of Gabriel.

_Fuck!_

The only good thing about this scenario was that Dean now knew they were definitely in the right place, although he would much rather have gone inside with the element of surprise. While the first guy held them at gunpoint, all three of them had their hands roughly tied behind their backs by the second guy. He also had wings, and he was dark haired like Cas, but shorter, and nowhere near as attractive.

“Move.” The thug with Sam’s gun waved it at them then, and gestured for them to start walking.

They did as they were told - being ‘helped’ on their way by some pushing and shoving from their hosts - going around the corner, into the warehouse and through to a large room off to the side.

Chuck was standing next to a long table full of nasty looking implements, and he smiled as they came into the room.

“Raphael… Michael, what a nice surprise you’ve brought me. Where did you find them?” Chuck came closer and grinned at his captives, as he looked them up and down.

“They were staking the place out. Probably thought we wouldn’t spot them… but we did,” the black guy with the gun - Raphael? - replied, smugly.

“Couldn’t keep away, huh, Dean? And this time you brought Sam and Gabriel with you.”

Once again, Dean was creeped out by how much Chuck knew about him. He wasn’t actually an omnipotent god, so how in the fuck… _seriously._

He wasn’t going to play Chuck’s little game and respond to him though, because he had something more important on his mind, like the other people in the room. There was Naomi, who was staring at him with disdain, and another guy with wings, sandy coloured hair, and an annoying smirk; however, Dean’s eyes were fixed only on Cas, who was standing rigidly by the window. Remembering another time he’d watched Cas standing next to the window - bathed in light in his apartment - filled Dean with a sense of sorrow. Would he ever get to see him there again?

“Cas! Cas?” Dean shouted, willing those blue eyes he adored so much to be trained on him once more.

Gabriel called his brother’s name too, but Cas showed no reaction to either of them, and Dean’s heart sunk. They were too late… _too fucking late,_ and he didn’t know if there would be any coming back from this for Cas. Turning angrily back to Chuck, he growled, “What did you do to him? I’ll kill you, you b-”

“I simply gave Emmanuel something to help him remember who he really is,” Chuck interrupted, before gaining Naomi’s attention, and gesturing with his hand towards Cas. “Naomi.”

She apparently knew exactly what Chuck wanted from her, and she stepped forward to grab hold of Dean roughly, and drag him over to Cas. Dean could see that his eyes had gone back to a dull grey, and he stared at Dean blankly.

Almost feeling more pain than he had when Raphael slammed his head into the wall, Dean tried again to get through to him. “Cas, it’s me… Dean.”

Ignoring Dean as if he hadn’t spoken, Naomi issued a chilling instruction to Cas. “Emmanuel, you're ready. Kill him.”

She pushed on Dean’s shoulder until he dropped to his knees; how the fuck was she so strong? Looking up at Cas, he could see the coldness in his eyes; if they really were the window to the soul, then Cas didn’t have one.

Dean had to try to reach him, somehow. “Cas, I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but if you're in there and you can hear me, you don't have to do this,” he pleaded.

Cas blinked, and a flicker of something in his eyes gave Dean hope that he might have found himself again. But they glazed over again when Naomi insisted,

“Just relax, Emmanuel. Do what you know deep down is the right thing.” 

If Dean thought Cas was cold, that was nothing compared to Naomi’s frostiness. There had always been something about her demeanour that made him feel slightly uneasy, but the way she was glaring at him now sent chills down his spine. Maybe she was the violent criminal; Dean wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be the case.

Blindly, Cas raised his hand as if to strike Dean, and Dean’s breath caught in his throat at the murderous expression on his face. _Holy crap…_ was Cas the violent criminal? Dean didn’t want to even consider that possibility, and yet… how did Jimmy die, anyway? Dean realised that he'd never actually been told. 

_No, no,_ that couldn’t be, could it? Dean shoved down the fear that had started eating at him, and begged, “I know you can hear me. _Cas..._ It's me. We're family. I need you… I love you.”

Dean watched as a tiny smile flicked across Cas’s face, before he turned to Naomi and struck her instead.

“I won’t hurt Dean,” Cas growled, as Naomi fell to the floor, stunned, and he hit her again. She stopped moving, and Cas stared at his hands as if he was shocked at his own strength.

“Cas?” Dean watched him, awestruck, wondering if Cas had been pretending all along, or if Dean’s words had snapped him out of the effects of the stuff they injected him with.

Almost as if he’d read Dean’s thoughts, Cas murmured, “It didn’t work. I was too strong; I fought it.”

To demonstrate the truth of his words, Cas easily broke whatever it was that Dean had been bound with, and took his hands in his. “I love you, too,” he said, and Dean’s stomach was suddenly filled with butterflies.

He wanted to kiss Cas so bad, but Cas let go of his hands and strode toward Chuck, with revenge clearly at the forefront of his mind. As Cas advanced on him, Chuck looked unsure of himself for the first time, and Dean looked forward to seeing him suffer.

Chuck, being the coward he was, ran for the door to make his escape, but before he could reach it, it flew open and the police reinforcements rushed through.

Chaos ensued then, as Chuck ran in the opposite direction while his ‘angels’ fought with the police. Sam and Gabriel were freed, and joined in with the fight against their attackers.

“Archangels,” Cas said from beside him. “Chuck made them stronger.”

There was another small door underneath a staircase in the corner, and Chuck ran through it, quickly followed by his archangels. Sam, Gabriel, and the extra police officers chased after them, and Dean was about to do the same, but Cas held him back.

Shaking his head and pointing to his wings, he said, “We must go.”

Of course, Cas would be worrying about being pulled in by the cops because of his body modification; that made sense. Dean wasn’t entirely sure how they would get out though, as there were sure to be more police officers outside the building.

Once again, as if reading Dean’s mind, Cas grabbed his hand and pulled him up the staircase. This led to a fire escape, that took them up past another floor, and eventually out onto the roof. 

Being in a mostly-deserted part of town meant that it was quite dark, but they could see the twinkling illuminations spread out in front of them, gradually increasing in number the closer they got to the centre of the city. It was a beautiful sight, but Dean was still wondering how on earth they would escape this situation, when Cas put his arms around him and flared his wings as wide as possible.

“Cas, can you fly?” Dean asked, in awe.

“No,” Cas replied, and Dean was suddenly confused as all hell about what they were doing up there. If they jumped, they would be injured a lot more severely than Cas had been when Dean first found him. This would kill them… surely?

Cas pointed down at a dumpster. “We’ll land there.”

Dean shook his head frantically. “No way. It’s too far.”

“I’ll protect you.” Cas wrapped Dean in his wings, and manoeuvred them to the roof’s edge.

“Cas, stop! You’ll break every bone-”

The rest of Dean’s words died before they were uttered, as Cas launched them into the air, and… _holy fucking shit,_ they were going to die! He closed his eyes as they plummeted to their death, but before they hit the dumpster, he felt Cas’s wings unfolding - without releasing the almost death grip he had on him with his arms - as something began pulling them upwards.

When he opened his eyes again, Dean could hardly believe what he was seeing; Cas was flapping his wings, and _they were flying!!_ Cas looked as surprised as he was, and his smile was breathtaking. He soared up into the sky, and Dean felt a woosh as the air rushed past them. It was exhilarating, and Dean was astonished - and delighted - to see that Cas’s eyes were glowing blue again, and he was shining brighter than ever before.

_Awesome!_

After a couple of minutes, where Dean was sure Cas was showing off, he started flying them in the direction of Dean’s apartment building. Dean would call Sam when they got home, and hopefully confirm what everyone who cared about Cas wanted to hear; that Chuck was finally captured. 

The feeling of being held in Cas’s strong arms while they flew over the city was incredible, and Dean was so wrapped up in it that he missed Cas bypassing their building, and instead landing them in the alleyway where they’d first met. 

“What’re we doing here, Cas?” Dean asked, puzzled.

Before Cas could answer, Dean’s computer buzzed with an incoming call. Holding his hand up for Cas to wait, he took his computer from his pocket and saw that it was Sam calling.

Swiping the screen to answer it, he said, “Sammy?”

“Dean? Where are you? Are you and Castiel okay?” Sam’s voice was full of concern.

“Yeah, we’re good. And you? Did you get that psycho Chuck?”

“No, but it looks like one of his archangels did. They’re gone - vanished - but there’s blood everywhere. Donna said she saw the dark haired one carrying him away, and he wasn’t moving at all. Obviously Chuck wasn’t as in control of them as he thought.”

Dean sighed in relief, knowing that Cas was finally safe… although he needed to know if the police would come after him. Would they be forever looking over their shoulders, waiting for that inevitable day when law enforcement came knocking?

“Don’t worry about Castiel,” Sam interrupted his thoughts. “His name will be kept out of the reports, like he was never even there.”

“That’s… thanks, Sam. You’re the best.” Dean smiled and ended the call, then turned to Cas. “You’re free, Cas. Chuck’s gone, and the police are gonna leave you alone.”

Relief spread over Cas’s face, and he embraced Dean, kissing him tenderly.

“So… what are we doing here?” Dean asked again when they came up for air.

“I wanted to remind myself of how you saved me from perdition. Dean Winchester… my angel.”

Cas took hold of Dean’s hand, and led him out of the alleyway and into the light.

_Who am I?_

_Where am I?_

My name is Castiel Novak, and I’m with the man I love. Dean Winchester.

  
  


**The end**


End file.
